DOWNSSEA 


.-     WILFRED 

T. 
GRENFELL 


*vri 


DOWN  to  The  SEA 


.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  AMGBLBS 


By  Wilfred  T.   Grenfell 


The  Harvest  of  the  Sea 

A  Tale  of  Both  Sides  of  the  Atlan- 
tic. Illustrated,  12mo,  cloth, 
net  $1.00. 

"Relates  the  life  of  the  North 
Sea  fishermen  on  the  now  famous 
Dogger  Bank  ;  the  cruel  appren- 
ticeship, the  bitter  life,  the  gal- 
lant deeds  of  courage  and  of  sea- 
manship, the  evils  of  drink,  the 
work  of  the  deep  sea  mission. 
These  are  real  sea  tales  that 
will  appeal  to  every  one,  and  are 
told  admirably. " 

—Ne<w  York  Sun. 


A    DISTINGUISHED    VISITOR 

Commander   Peary  and  Dr.  Grenfell  on  the  deck  of  the  Roosevelt  on 
the  former's  return  from  the  Pole 


Down  to  The  Sea 


YARNS   FROM 
THE  LABRADOR 


By 

Wilfred  T.  Grenfell 
M.D.,  C.M.G. 


ILLUSTRATED 


New  York          Chicago         Toronto 

Fleming  H.   Resell  Company 

London   and  Edinburgh 


Copyright,  IQIO,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


Permission  is  acknowledged  to  reprint  these  sketches  from 
The  Century,  Putnam's,  Leslie's, 
The  Toronto  University  Student, 
The  Congregationalist,  The  Outlook. 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  80  Wabash  Avenue 
Toronto:  25  Richmond  St.  W. 
London :  2 1  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:  100  Princes  Street 


I.  UNDER  THE  NORTHERN  LIGHTS  n 

II.  'TIS  DOGGED  AS  DOES  IT    .         .  36 

III.  DANNY'S  DELIVERANCE      .         .  66 

IV.  THE  OPTIMIST      .         .         .         .  78 

V.  THE    MATE    OF    THE   WILD- 

FLOWER      96 

VI.  "GUI  BONO"         .         .         .         .112 

VII.  QUEER   PROBLEMS    FOR    A    MIS- 

SIONARY       127 

VIII.  EVERY   LITTLE    HELPS         .         .  141 

IX.  KINDLY  HEARTS  ON  UNKINDLY 

SHORES 153 

X.  THE  SKIPPER'S  YARN  .         .         .165 
XL      THERE    HIS     SERVANTS    SERVE 

HIM 171 

XII.  A  PHYSICIAN  IN  THE  ARCTIC  .  183 

XIII.  FRIENDS     AND     FOES     OF    THE 

LABRADOR           ....  201 

XIV.  THE  CLOSE  OF  OPEN  WATER   .  217 


2130101 


OF  ILLUSrRATIONS 


A  Distinguished  Visitor  .  .  .  Opposite  Title 
The  Native  Eskimo  —  Still  almost  prehistoric  in 

their  customs  .  ,  .  .  .  14 

I  Have  Most  Faith  in  Unwritten  Sermons  .  34 

The  Gloomy  Faces  of  Great  Beetling  Cliffs  .  66 
Great  Masses  of  Ice  Were  Day  by  Day  Increas- 

ing in  Size  .....  70 

They  Had  a  Good  Six  Hundred  Pounds  to  Haul  80 

It  Was  a  Veritable  Day  of  Sick  Calls  .  .  114 

A  Labrador  Four-in-Hand  .  .  .  .  1  50 
The  Physician  in  the  Labrador  .  .  .184 

A  Doctor  is  Unable  to  Specialize  on  this  Coast  .  192 

Trusted  Friends  of  the  Labrador  .  .  .  208 

"  Doesn't  Look  Exactly  Like  a  Pleasure  Yacht"  222 


I. 

The  Northern  Lights. 

AS  a  country  for  summer  holidays,  Lab- 
rador has  not  yet  been  taken  seriously. 
Yet   it  attracts   many   scientists   who 
visit  it  for  its  unique  opportunities  for  special 
work.     In  the  summer  of  1905,  Elihu  Root, 
Secretary  of   State,  came  in  search   of  that 
absolute  rest  which  is  impossible  in  any  coun- 
try where  telephones  and  the  other  appurte- 
nances of  civilization  have  intruded. 

From  several  points  of  view,  also,  Labrador 
affords  attractions  offered  by  no  other  country 
so  near  at  hand.  The  scenery  of  the  southern 
coast  is  modified  by  the  fact  that  in  the  glacial 
period  the  ice-cap  smoothed  and  rounded  the 
mountain  peaks,  while  the  cliffs  are  seldom 
five  hundred  feet  in  height.  In  the  north, 
however,  the  mountain-tops  apparently  always 
reared  their  heads  above  the  ice-stream,  and 

II 


12  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

for  its  high  cliffs  and  virgin  peaks  the  coast- 
line is  unrivaled  anywhere  in  the  world.  The 
fact  that  the  high  land  runs  right  out  to  the 
Atlantic  seaboard  does  not  prevent  its  afford- 
ing most  imposing  fiords  winding  away  among 
its  fastnesses.  For  the  thundering  of  the  rest- 
less Atlantic,  the  grinding  masses  of  the  polar 
ice,  which  assail  its  bulwarks  for  eight  months 
out  of  twelve,  and  the  iron  frost  of  its  terrible 
winters,  have  proved  to  be  workmen  that  even 
its  adamantine  rocks  have  been  unable  to  with- 
stand. 

Thus  there  have  been  carved  out  fiords  such 
as  that  of  Nakvak,  which  runs  inland  for 
thirty  miles.  The  cliffs  on  each  side  rise  direct 
from  the  narrow  gorge,  which  is  itself  only  a 
mile  in  width,  to  an  average  of  about  two 
thousand  feet,  the  deep  blue  water  affording 
anchorage  so  close  in  under  the  cliffs  that 
one  would  suppose  it  bottomless  elsewhere. 
Though  these  rocks  are  the  basal  rocks  of  the 
earth's  skeleton,  and  are  entirely  barren  of 
trees  and  shrubs-— or,  indeed,  of  any  fossil 
either, — their  sternness  is  mitigated  by  the 
abundant  carpet  bedding  of  brilliant-colored 
lichens  and  the  numerous  small  subarctic  flora 
to  be  found  up  to  their  highest  peaks.  To  the 
north  of  this  inlet  are  still  loftier  mountains, 


The  NORTHERN  LIGHTS        13 

tHe  heights  of  which  have  not  yet  been  meas- 
ured, and  the  summits  of  which  have  never 
yet  yielded  to  the  foot  of  man.  A  cluster 
known  as  the  "Four  Peaks"  has  been  variously 
estimated  up  to  six  thousand  feet  in  height. 

There  is  no  country  in  the  world  where  the 
glories  of  the  aurora  borealis  can  so  frequently 
be  enjoyed.  The  weird  "northern  lights," 
called  by  the  Eskimo  "the  spirits  of  the  dead 
at  play,"  are  seen  dancing  in  the  sky  on  almost 
every  clear  night.  The  glorious  red  morning 
light,  stealing  over  these  rugged  peaks,  and 
steeping,  in  blood,  as  it  were,  the  pinnacles  of 
the  loftiest  icebergs  in  the  world,  forms  a 
contrast  with  the  deep  blue  of  the  ocean  and 
the  glistening  white  in  a  way  that  will  hold 
the  dullest  spellbound.  The  endless  stream  of 
fantastic  icebergs  at  all  times  enlivens  the 
monotony  of  a  boundless  ocean. 

Though  cruising  in  north  Labrador  is  at 
present  made  difficult  by  the  poor  survey  of 
the  coast,  it  is  also  made  delightful  to  the 
amateur  sailor  by  the  countless  natural  harbors, 
never  more  than  a  few  miles  apart,  and  by 
the  thousands  of  outlying  islands,  which  per- 
mit almost  one-fourth  of  the  coast  to  be  vis- 
ited in  perfectly  smooth  water,  the  great  swell 
from  the  Atlantic  being  shouldered  off  by  the 


.14  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

long  fringe  of  them  that  runs  seaward  for 
twenty  or  thirty  miles. 

Clearly  written  in  water-worn  boulders  on 
the  mountain-sides  of  the  now  slowly  rising 
land,  and  by  the  elevated  sea-caves,  with  their 
wave-washed  pillows,  is  the  history  of  how 
the  Labrador  came  here.  These  raise  before 
the  dullest  mind  visions  of  a  paleocrystic  sea 
that  lapped  these  shores  in  the  dim  ages  of 
the  past.  Hanging  everywhere  on  almost  im- 
perceptible lodging-places  on  the  crests  and 
ridges  of  every  mountain,  the  ice-carried  errat- 
ics forever  tempt  one  to  climb  up  and  try 
to  dislodge  them.  But  generally  one  finds  they 
weigh  many  tons,  and  his  puny  strength  can- 
not stir  them  the  single  inch  necessary  to  send 
them  crashing  down  into  the  valleys  below. 

Labrador  has  no  towns,  no  roads,  and  no 
policemen.  Scattered  along  its  shores  one 
meets,  during  the  months  of  open  water,  only 
the  venturous  fishing-vessels  from  the  far 
South,  manned  by  their  wholesome  crews,  the 
stout-hearted  vikings  of  to-day,  and,  beside 
these,  the  native  Eskimo,  still  almost  prehis- 
toric in  their  customs,  and  themselves  alone  of 
sufficient  interest  to  merit  a  side-show  at  all 
the  recent  world's  exhibitions.  But  for  the 
fact  that  trade  and  the  gospel  have  gone  hand 


THE    NATIVE    ESKIMO 
Still  almost  prehistoric  in  their  customs 


The  NORTHERN  LIGHTS        15 

in  hand,  this  "flavor  of  the  past"  would  have 
been  blotted  out  long  ago.  Only  around  the 
stations  of  the  brethren  of  the  Moravian 
Church  are  there  left  any  number  of  this  inter- 
esting people.  The  good  Moravian  brethren 
have  acted  as  traders  as  well  as  preachers  and 
teachers.  By  tabooing  liquor  and  cheap  gew- 
gaws, by  fair  dealing,  by  the  inculcation  of 
simple  religion,  and  by  a  paternal  surveillance 
of  morals,  they  have  almost  prevented  any 
decrease  in  the  number  of  their  people  in  the 
last  fifty  years,  during  which  only  they  have 
kept  a  census.  Meanwhile  the  Eskimo  have 
everywhere  else  virtually  vanished  from  the 
coast. 

This  is  a  tribute  to  the  value  of  their  mis- 
sion especially  unimpeachable,  in  view  of  the 
present-day  strenuous  efforts  to  prevent  loss 
of  life  among  children  in  our  crowded  cities. 

It  has  not  been  easy  to  convey  to  the  Es- 
kimo mind  the  meaning  of  the  Oriental  similes 
of  the  Bible.  Thus,  the  Lamb  of  God  had  to 
be  translated  kotik,  or  "young  seal."  This 
animal,  with  its  perfect  whiteness  as  it  lies  in 
its  cradle  of  ice,  its  gentle,  helpless  nature, 
and  its  pathetic,  innocent  eyes,  is  probably  as 
apt  a  substitute,  however,  as  nature  offers. 
Yet  not  long  ago  an  elderly  lady,  who  at  other 


1 6  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

times  had  almost  a  genius  for  what  savored 
of  idolatry,  sent  me  in  Labrador  a  box  con- 
taining a  stuffed  lamb,  "that  the  Eskimo," 
after  all  these  years,  "might  learn  better." 

To  the  Eskimo  mind,  everything  animate 
or  inanimate  possesses  a  soul.  Thus,  in  their 
graves  we  found  they  invariably  placed  every 
cherished  possession,  that  their  spirits  might 
serve  the  departed  spirit  in  the  same  capaci- 
ties in  the  life  to  come.  There  is  little  room 
for  burial  beneath  the  scanty  earth  in  Labra- 
dor, even  if  the  frost  would  permit  it.  So  the 
grave  consists  of  upright  stones,  with  long, 
flat  ones  laid  across.  These  not  only  serve  to 
keep  the  wolves  from  the  body,  but  wide 
chinks  also  afford  the  spirits  free  passage  in 
and  out. 

I  have  found  many  graves  perched  upon 
some  promontory  jutting  out  into  the  sea,  so 
that  the  spirit  might  be  near  its  hunting- 
ground  and  again  take  toll  from  the  spirits  of 
departed  seals.  In  a  little  cache  at  the  foot  of 
the  grave  are  generally  to  be  found  the  rem- 
nants of  the  man's  property.  Even  since  Chris- 
tianity has  come  among  them,  I  have  seen  a 
modern  rifle  and  good  steel  snow-knives  rust- 
ing in  the  grave;  and  I  have  found  pipes  filled 
with  tobacco,  that  those  who  were  denied  the 


The  NORTHERN  LIGHTS        17 

pleasures  of  its  enjoyment  while  on  earth 
should  at  least  have  a  chance  given  them  to 
learn  its  use  in  the  regions  beyond  the  grave. 
No  Puritanical  forecasts  of  the  joys  of  heaven 
trouble  the  Eskimo  mind. 

The  stone  age  is  only  just  passing  in  Labra- 
dor. But  already  the  museums  of  the  South 
are  hungering  for  these  witnesses  to  man's 
humble  origin,  and  the  most  easily  found 
graves  have  been  ruthlessly  rifled.  Indeed,  one 
man  came  and  complained  to  me  that  an  ener- 
getic collector,  of  unmentionable  nationality, 
had  positively  carried  off  the  bones  of  his 
grandmother!  I  wished  on  one  occasion  to 
obtain  some  specimens  of  stone  kettles,  axes, 
knives,  and  other  relics  from  some  ancient 
graves  known  to  me  on  a  certain  island.  We 
had  not  time,  however,  to  leave  our  steamer 
to  hunt  for  them.  Out  of  gratitude  for  ser- 
vices rendered  to  them  in  my  capacity  as 
"Aniasuit,"  or  "the  man  that  has  to  do  with 
pain,"  some  of  my  little  friends  readily  prom- 
ised to  seek  them  for  me.  They  explained, 
however,  that  they  should  put  something  into 
the  grave  for  each  thing  they  took  out.  I 
referred  them  to  the  Moravian  station,  where 
they  could  purchase,  at  my  expense,  things 
likely  to  satisfy  the  departed  spirits,  as  there 


,18  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

was  nothing  they  would  have  found  valuable 
in  my  floating  drug  store. 

Now,  it  so  happened  that  once,  when  it  was 
the  mark  of  an  anarchist  in  Germany  to  wear 
a  beard,  the  German  brethren  had  brought 
out  a  job-lot  of  razors,  forgetful  that  nature 
had  been  merciful  to  the  Eskimo  in  their  frigid 
climes,  and  spared  them  superfluous  hair  about 
their  faces.  So  the  stock  was  still  available, 
and  on  returning  in  the  spring  I  found  my 
friends  had  solemnly  deposited  these  in  the 
caches  they  had  robbed.  The  idea  of  the  hoary 
spirits  of  their  ancestors  practising  the  noble 
art,  in  the  night  watches,  on  these  awful  head- 
lands, with  inferior  razors,  appealed  to  other 
than  the  religious  sense  in  us.  But  the  minds 
of  all  men  are  more  or  less  muddled  (teste 
Carlyle),  and  the  Eskimo  have  a  singular  lack 
of  humor. 

As  patients,  these  little  people  are  most  ex- 
cellent. They  have  no  fear  of  pain,  and  heal 
rapidly,  a  tribute,  possibly,  to  our  almost  germ- 
less  air.  On  one  occasion,  seated  in  a  large 
Eskimo  tubik,  or  tent,  I  was  seeing  the  sick  of 
a  settlement  which  I  had  not  visited  for  eight 
months.  It  came  the  turn  of  a  girl  of  about 
fifteen  years,  who  silently  held  up  a  frost-bit- 
ten toe  that  needed  removing.  As  there  was 


The  NORTHERN  LIGHTS        19 

a  dense  crowd  in  the  tent,  she  insisted  it  should 
be  done  at  once.  The  satisfaction  of  being  for 
the  moment  the  center  of  attraction  was  all 
the  anesthetic  she  wanted. 

Gratitude,  also,  is  not  so  uncommon  in 
Labrador  as  it  was  in  Judea.  I  had  operated 
one  year,  in  the  North,  on  a  young  man  with 
a  dislocated  shoulder,  and  had  long  since  for- 
gotten all  about  him.  Some  two  years  later  a 
beaming  Eskimo  met  me  at  the  head  of  the 
companion-ladder,  and  produced  from  beneath 
his  voluminous  kossack  a  finely  ornamented 
pair  of  boots.  He  soon  made  clear  to  me  that 
he  had  been  pursuing  me  all  this  time  with  this 
token  of  his  gratitude,  and  kept  pointing  to 
the  shoulder,  which  he  could  now  freely  use. 
I  have  known  it  otherwise  at  home  with  doc- 
tors and  their  fees,  where  the  patient  took  no 
unlawful  trouble  to  see  his  benefactor  re- 
warded. 

There  are  in  Labrador  settlers  and  half- 
breeds  who  are  ever  increasing  in  number, 
while  their  pure-blooded  brethren  are  vanish- 
ing away.  These,  too,  are  an  interesting  peo- 
ple, retaining  many  bygone  superstitions  and 
customs,  some  of  which  they  have  in  common 
with  all  fisher  folk.  Among  these  a  large  part 
of  my  practice  lies.  I  append  a  sample  invi- 


20 

tation  to  pay  a  visit  to  one  of  them  who  was 
sick.  It  is  an  exact  copy. 

Mr.  Docker  Greand 
Felle  Battle  Harbor 
Labrador. 

Please  Docker  i  sen 

you  this  to  see  if 

you  call  in  Sea 

bight  when  you  gose 

down  to  see  Mr.  archbell 

Chubbs  he  in  nead 

of  you. 

A  letter  like  this,  however,  is  a  compromise 
with  their  own  ideas,  and  to  me  is  the  emblem 
of  a  better  era.  For  among  my  first  patients, 
thirteen  years  ago,  on  a  lonely  island,  was  the 
father  of  a  budding  family.  When  I  called, 
he  was  sitting  up  on  his  bed,  perspiration  from 
pain  pouring  down  his  face,  and  the  red  lines 
of  a  spreading  infection  running  up  his  arm 
from  a  deep  poisoned  wound  in  the  hand.  I 
showed  him  that  his  life  was  at  stake,  and  that 
I  could  painlessly  open  the  deep  wound.  He 
absolutely  refused,  as  he  had  already  sent  a 
messenger  to  an  old  lady  up  the  bay  who  was 
given  to  "charming."  Passing  the  island 


The  NORTHERN  LIGHTS        21 

again  before  I  left  next  morning,  I  found  he 
had  not  slept  since  I  went  away,  and  the  old 
lady  had  not  yet  arrived.  He  again  refused 
the  knife.  I  did  not  call  again  at  the  island 
till  the  following  spring,  when  I  was  not  sur- 
prised to  find  his  "tilt"  deserted  and  the  roof 
fallen  in.  The  old  lady  had  not  arrived  in 
time,  and  the  neighbors,  in  their  generous  way, 
had  shared  his  children  among  them. 

Having  no  doctors  of  their  own,  they  dis- 
play no  small  ingenuity  in  devising  remedies 
from  the  few  resources  they  possess.  Natur- 
ally, certain  persons  are  looked  upon  as  spe- 
cially gifted.  The  claims  of  wise  women  vie 
with  those  of  seventh  sons,  but  no  reasonable 
person  would  dispute  the  priority  of  the  sev- 
enth son  of  a  seventh  son.  "Why,  bless  yer, 
worms  '11  perish  in  their  open  hands."  Once, 
in  stripping  a  fisherman  to  examine  his  chest, 
I  perceived  that  he  had  a  string,  as  of  a 
scapular,  around  his  neck.  Knowing  that  he 
was  not  a  Catholic,  I  asked  him  the  meaning 
of  it.  "Sure,  't  is  a  toothache-string,  sir,"  he 
replied.  "Sure,  I  never  had  the  toothache 
sunce  I  worn  un."  So  another,  who  on  one 
occasion  I  found  to  be  wearing  a  green  ribbon 
round  his  left  wrist,  told  me,  "'T  is  against 
the  bleedin',  sir,  if  ever  I  be  took." 


7*.  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

There  are  more  feet  than  shoes  in  many 
families  in  Labrador,  and  we  are  frequently 
called  upon  to  amputate  legs  which  have  been 
frozen.  Not  only  do  the  children  suffer  from 
this  cause,  but  men  and  women  as  well.  I 
recall  a  case  which  proves  the  unimportance  of 
creed  in  religion.  The  wife  of  a  Roman 
Catholic  had  a  leg  amputated,  and  I  was  called 
upon  to  supply  an  artificial  leg.  I  had  one  in 
stock,  and  after  I  had  given  it  to  her  I  learned 
its  history.  The  leg  had  been  made  for  a 
Baptist  soldier  who  lost  a  limb  in  the  Civil 
War.  When  he  died,  his  wife,  who  was  a 
Presbyterian,  kept  it  for  a  while  and  then  gave 
it  to  an  Episcopal  cripple.  It  worked  around 
to  my  mission  in  a  devious  way,  and  I  gave  it 
to  the  wife  of  the  Roman  Catholic. 

On  one  occasion,  the  burly  skipper  of  a 
fishing  crew  boarded  the  mission  ship,  his 
head  swathed  in  red  flannel,  his  cheek  blis- 
tered with  liniment,  and  his  face  puffed  out 
like  a  blue-bag. 

"Toothache,  Skipper  Joe?"  I  said;  "you  '11 
soon  be  all  right,"  and  I  pulled  down  a 
snaky  instrument  from  the  row  in  the  chart- 
house. 

"No,  no,  Doctor;  I  wants  un  charmed." 

"But,  you  know,  I  don't  charm  people,  Skip- 


The  NORTHERN  LIGHTS        23 

per.  Nonsense,  I  tell  you!  Get  out  of  the 
deck-house !" 

But  he  only  stood  vociferating  on  the  deck, 
"No,  no,  Doctor;  't  is  only  charmin'  her 
wants." 

Time  is  precious  when  steam  is  in  the  boiler, 
so  I  merely  replied,  "Sit  on  that  coaming1, 
and  open  your  mouth." 

He  waited  to  see  that  I  had  dropped  the 
forceps,  and  then  followed  my  directions. 
Waving  my  hands  over  his  head,  I  touched  the 
offending  molar.  His  mind  seemed  greatly 
relieved,  and  he  at  once  proffered  twenty-five 
cents  for  the  benefit  of  the  mission.  Three 
months  later,  on  my  way  south,  I  saw  this 
man  again.  Beaming  with  smiles,  he  volun- 
teered, "Ne'er  an  ache  nor  a  pain  in  'er  since 
you  charmed  her,  Doctor."  While  he  was 
showing  me  the  molar,  still  in  its  place,  to 
confirm  his  theory,  I  was  wondering  what 
faith-healing  really  meant. 

On  one  of  my  winter  journeys  with  dog 
team  and  komatik,  we  made  a  long  detour  to 
see  a  sick  man.  A  snow-storm  overtook  us, 
and  we  arrived  late  at  night,  thoroughly  tired 
out,  at  the  rude  tilt  where  our  patient  lay. 
After  doing  our  best  for  the  poor  fellow,  we 
stretched  out  our  sleeping-bags  on  the  floor 


24  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

preparatory  to  turning  in,  as  we  are  in  the 
habit  of  doing  whenever  it  is  desirable  to  have 
a  private  apartment.  It  was  customary  for 
our  host's  dogs  to  burrow  down  through  the 
snow  and  sleep  under  the  house.  For  there 
they  got  shelter  and  warmth  beneath  that  part 
of  the  floor  where  the  stove  stood.  Our  dogs, 
having  discovered  their  burrows,  desired  to 
share  their  comforts,  but  they  could  not  get 
down  to  give  battle  except  by  crawling  down 
one  at  a  time.  The  result  was  a  constant 
growling  and  barking  only  a  few  inches  from 
our  heads.  Sleep  seemed  impossible,  yet 
no  one  wished  the  task  of  digging  the  dogs 
out. 

It  so  happened  that  my  host's  seventh  son 
was  at  home,  and  he  promptly  offered  to  charm 
the  dogs  into  quietude.  This  he  did  by  stand- 
ing with  his  back  to  the  wall  and  apparently 
twiddling  the  thumbs  of  his  clasped  hands  in 
some  peculiar  way.  He  also  muttered  a  few 
words  which  he  would  not  tell  me.  For  my 
part,  I  was  so  tired  that  I  went  to  sleep  watch- 
ing him,  and  for  me,  at  least,  the  charm 
worked.  My  driver  also  confessed  he  thought 
that  it  was  we  who  were  charmed;  for  the 
seventh  son  had  faded  from  sight  and  memory 
while  still  twiddling  his  thumbs. 


The  NORTHERN  LIGHTS        2$ 

Much  more  rational  than  these  efforts  are 
some  of  those  in  use  at  sea.  The  astringent 
liquor  from  the  boiled  scrapings  of  the  hard- 
wood sheave  of  an  old  block  is  no  mean  rem- 
edy when  swallowed  in  quantity;  and  the 
boiled  gelatinous  skin  of  a  flatfish,  covered 
with  a  piece  of  an  oilskin  coat,  forms  a  really 
rational  poultice.  "Why,  't  will  draw  yous 
head  to  yous  heels,  if  you  puts  her  in  the  right 
place." 

A  salt  herring,  bandaged  against  the  delicate 
skin  of  the  throat,  has  much  virtue  as  a  count- 
ter-irritant ;  but,  like  most  of  these  humble 
remedies,  fails  in  diphtheria,  nor  saves  in  the 
hour  of  peril  some  loved  child  that  skilled  aid 
might  have  rescued. 

It  is  often  said  that  there  is  no  law  in  Lab- 
rador, and  I  have  heard  men  profane  enough 
to  add,  "Thank  God!"  I  do  not  know  that 
the  facilities  for  obtaining  satisfactory  settle- 
ments have  evolved  in  proportion  to  our  sense 
of  justice  and  the  intricacies  of  our  methods 
of  obtaining  it.  In  the  capacity  of  magistrate, 
I  was  called  on  once  to  settle  the  division  of 
a  property  which  should  have  left  a  small  sum 
to  a  needy  family.  I  found  the  cost  of  divi- 
sion by  the  usual  channels  would  have  left 
only  a  zero  to  divide.  So  we  appealed  to 


26  DOWN,  to  The  SEA 

equity,  and  forced  one  another  to  abide  by  it. 
Only  last  week  a  dispute  arose  about  the  own- 
ership of  a  certain  plot  of  land.  It  had  been 
argued  unsuccessfully  with  high  words  and 
with  pike-handles.  The  weaker  party  applied 
for  a  summons.  So,  appointing  the  plot  of 
land  as  the  court,  and  daybreak  as  the  hour, 
we  settled  the  question  between  three  disput- 
ants in  exactly  fifteen  minutes.  This  included 
the  making  of  landmarks,  which  I  erected  my- 
self. Moreover,  the  court  was  able  to  be  back 
over  the  hills  in  time  for  breakfast,  with  an 
excellent  appetite  and  a  satisfied  mind  as  his 
only  judicial  fees. 

There  has  been  no  law  promulgated  as  yet 
in  Labrador  dealing  with  the  infant  mortality 
and  cruelty  to  children.  My  first  case  of  this 
kind  involved  insistence  on  a  stepfather's  as- 
suming the  responsibility  for  a  little  girl  be- 
longing to  his  new  wife.  Returning  three 
months  later  to  the  same  place,  I  found  the 
man  obdurate  and  the  little  girl  living  in  a 
house  by  herself,  where  he  merely  allowed 
food  to  be  sent  to  her.  There  could  be  no 
gain  to  the  community  by  our  deporting  the 
man  to  a  prison  five  hundred  miles  away  in 
Newfoundland,  nor  gain  to  the  child  by  for- 
cing so  unnatural  a  person  to  allow  her  to 


The  NORTHERN  LIGHTS        27 

live  with  him.  So  the  court  decided  to  add 
the  little  girl  to  the  crew  of  his  steamer,  and 
steamed  away  with  a  new  kind  of  fee.  Good, 
however,  came  out  of  evil,  for  we  have  since 
ventured  on  a  small  orphanage  near  one  of 
our  hospitals,  and  I  have  had  the  supreme 
pleasure  of  taking  to  its  shelter  more  than  one 
delightful  little  derelict. 

We  cannot,  however,  always  be  Solomons, 
and  the  best-intentioned  of  decisions  may 
sometimes  be  at  fault.  Thus,  on  one  occasion 
a  man's  cow,  feeding  on  the  hillside,  was  found 
dead  in  the  morning.  It  had  obviously  been 
killed  by  some  one's  dogs.  As  the  owner  went 
up  to  find  the  body,  he  saw  two  dogs  coming 
away  suspiciously  licking  their  chops.  These 
belonged  to  a  poor  neighbor  of  his,  the  guilt 
of  whose  team,  I  fear,  was  at  no  time  in  doubt. 
He  expressed  the  greatest  sorrow,  and  offered 
to  shoot  his  dogs.  But  that  would  not  bring 
the  cow  to  life  again.  So,  though  he  had  no 
money,  we  decided  that  the  cow  should  be  cut 
in  two,  each  man  taking  half,  the  offender  to 
pay  half  the  value  of  the  cow  to  the  owner, 
in  money,  as  soon  as  he  could.  By  the  valua- 
tion of  the  coast,  the  cow  was  worth  only 
twenty  dollars.  I  was  alarmed  next  day  to 
hear  that  my  steward  had  bought  from  the 


28  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

aggressor  six  dollars'  worth  of  meat,  and  that 
two  other  men  had  bought  four  dollars'  worth, 
so  that  the  offender  was  in  pocket  and  dis- 
tinctly encouraged  to  kill  his  neighbor's  cow 
again,  especially  as  his  disposition  of  his  half 
had  left  him  with  a  fine  meal  of  fresh  beef  into 
the  bargain. 

The  uncertainty  of  a  fisherman's  calling, 
and  the  long  winter  of  forced  inaction,  when 
Jack  Frost  has  our  hunting-grounds  in  his 
grip,  made  the  need  of  some  remunerative 
winter  work  as  necessary  to  us  as  a  safety- 
valve  is  to  a  boiler.  We  had  an  excellent  belt 
of  spruce  and  fir  trees  at  the  bottom  of  our 
long  bays,  and  a  number  of  us  agreed  to  co- 
operate in  a  lumber-mill,  that  thus  men  might 
be  helped  to  help  themselves,  rather  than  be 
forced  to  accept  doles  of  free  flour  and  mo- 
lasses, and  at  the  same  time  be  robbed  of  their 
self-respect.  So  we  purchased  a  boiler,  engine, 
and  saw-table,  and  the  skipper  of  our  coop- 
erative vessel  volunteered  to  bring  these 
weighty  impedimenta  on  his  deck  from  St. 
John's.  I  myself  was  away  in  the  North, 
beyond  the  reach  of  mails,  when  it  suddenly 
occurred  to  me  that  the  boiler  weighed  over 
three  tons,  and  we  had  not  chosen  a  spot  or 
built  a  wharf  on  which  to  land  it.  We  had 


The  NORTHERN  LIGHTS       29 

merely  applied  for  an  area  on  which  to  con- 
duct operations. 

But  the  genius  of  the  sailor  saved  the  situa- 
tion. For  the  skipper  had  found  a  spot  where 
he  could  warp  his  vessel  alongside  the  rocks. 
He  had  then  cut  down  some  trees,  which  he 
had  used  as  skids,  and  improvising  a  derrick 
out  of  his  main  and  mizzen  halyards,  he  had 
safely  slipped  the  boiler  to  the  beach.  Others 
had  dragged  it  up  on  another  set  of  skids, 
and  had  built  over  it  a  massive  mill-house, 
kneed  like  a  capsized  schooner,  and  calculated 
at  a  pinch  to  resist  a  bombardment.  True,  we 
had  to  bring  fresh  water  a  mile  and  a  quarter 
without  pipes,  but  they  had  sawed  wood 
enough  for  this,  dammed  the  river,  and  car- 
ried the  troughs  on  eighteen- foot  stakes;  and 
now  for  several  years  the  mill  has  been  run- 
ning successfully.  We  had  to  learn  our  trade, 
and  it  has  cost  us  much  unevenly  sawed  board- 
ing and  at  least  four  fingers,  but,  beyond  that, 
no  serious  accidents ;  and  a  little  winter  village 
has  sprung  up  about  this  source  of  work,  with 
a  school  and  a  mission  room,  and  we  can 
afford  to  pay  for  logs  enough  to  give  a  win- 
ter's diet  to  one  hundred  separate  families. 
We  have  built  schooners  at  the  mill,  besides 
other  boats,  and  a  lot  of  building.  I  am  not 


30  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

sure  in  my  own  mind  which  does  more  to 
mitigate  the  many  evils  that  follow  in  the 
wake  of  semi-starvation,  our  pills  or  our 
mill. 

The  economic  conditions  of  all  places  largely 
cut  off  from  communication  are,  I  presume, 
hampered  by  the  fact  that  the  supplying  of 
the  necessaries  of  life  falls  into  the  hands 
of  a  monopoly;  so  that  it  often  happens  that 
the  poorer  the  people  are,  the  higher  the  prices 
they  have  to  pay.  It  is  the  more  galling  to 
those  who  wish  to  preach  a  gospel  of  help 
when  they  discover  that  these  same  poor  peo- 
ple find  it  difficult  to  get  market  value  for  their 
produce. 

Here  is  an  illustration  of  the  cash  value  of 
independence  which  I  took  the  other  day  from 
the  lips  of  as  fine  a  toiler  of  the  sea  as  ever 
trod  a  quarter-deck.  The  man  has  three  sons 
grown  up  enough  to  help  him  in  the  fishery. 
After  long  years  as  a  poor  hook-and-line  fish- 
erman, living  from  hand  to  mouth,  the  boys 
made  enough  money  to  induce  a  kindly  mer- 
chant to  build  them  a  schooner  on  credit.  The 
schooner,  named  the  Olinda,  cost,  ready  for 
sea,  with  "the  bit  of  food  aboard,"  as  she  left 
the  narrows  of  their  harbor  for  the  fishery, 
exactly  eighteen  hundred  dollars.  "And  us 


The  NORTHERN  LIGHTS       31 

didn't  know  where  us  was  ever  goin'  to  see 
it  from;  and  us  had  three  sharemen  with  us. 
But  us  come  back,  sir,  in  three  months,  and 
sold  our  catch  for  twenty-three  hundred  dol- 
lars; so  that  us  had  enough  to  pay  our  three 
sharemen,  and  pay  for  the  schooner,  and  have 
one  hundred  dollars  coming  to  us.  Us  still 
had  time  to  go  down  North  again  and  fetch 
the  freighters  us  had  carried  down,  and  to 
catch  another  hundred  quintals  of  fish.  The 
second  trip  brought  us  in  seven  hundred  and 
forty  dollars.  And  now,"  he  said  triumph- 
antly, "us  is  independent,  and  can  buy  our  bit 
anywhere  us  likes ;  so  it  will  come  cheaper,  you 
see,  Doctor."  It  stands  to  reason  every  man 
cannot  shake  off  quite  so  easily  the  shackles 
which  bind  him  to  a  particular  trader. 

It  was  to  help  others  to  do  what  this  man 
was  able  to  do  for  himself  that  thirteen  years 
ago  we  started  a  series  of  small  cooperative 
stores.  In  many  cases  these  have  had  the  ef- 
fect that  we  desired. 

The  reality  of  a  spiritual  world  is  no  stum- 
bling-block to  our  people,  and  indeed  all  are 
more  or  less  superstitious  as  to  its  relations 
to  the  world  we  now  inhabit.  Four  winters 
ago  an  excellent  trapper,  Joe  Michelin,  living 
about  twenty-five  miles  up  the  magnificent 


32  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

river  on  which  the  Grand  Falls  of  Labrador 
are  situated,  was  in  much  trouble.  His  chil- 
dren informed  him  that  they  had  seen  a  weird, 
large,  hairy  man  crossing  the  little  bit  of  open 
country  between  the  alders  on  the  river-bank 
and  a  drogue  of  woods  on  the  other  side  of 
his  house.  A  practical-minded  man,  he  put  no 
credence  in  the  story  until  one  day  they  ran 
in  and  told  him  it  had  just  crossed  the  open, 
and  they  had  seen  it  waving  its  hands  at  them 
from  the  willows.  Rifle  in  hand,  he  went  out, 
and  to  his  intense  surprise  found  fresh, 
strange  tracks  in  the  direction  in  which  the 
children  had  told  him  the  creature  had  gone. 
These  marks  sank  into  the  ground  at  least  six 
inches,  where  the  horses  that  work  at  the 
mill  would  only  have  sunk  two  inches.  The 
mark  of  the  hoof  was  distinctly  cloven,  and 
the  strides  were  at  times  no  less  than  eight 
feet  apart. 

Knowing  that  he  would  not  be  credited  if 
he  told  this  story  even  to  his  nearest  neigh- 
bor, who  lived  some  miles  away,  he  boarded 
over  some  of  the  tracks  to  preserve  them  from 
the  weather.  At  night-time  his  dogs  would 
often  be  growling  and  uneasy,  and  several 
times  he  found  they  had  all  been  driven  into 
the  river  during  the  night.  He  himself  heard 


The  NORTHERN  LIGHTS       33 

the  monster  walking  around  the  house  in  the 
dark,  and  twice  distinctly  heard  it  tapping  on 
the  down-stairs  shutter.  He  and  his  family 
were  so  thoroughly  frightened  that  they  al- 
ways slept  in  the  top  loft  of  their  house,  with 
loaded  revolvers  and  rifles  beside  them. 

The  tracks  became  more  numerous  as  the 
spring  opened,  and  one  day  his  boy  of  four- 
teen told  him  that  he,  too,  had  seen  the  crea- 
ture vanishing  into  the  trees.  A  French- 
Canadian  trapper,  hearing  of  his  trouble,  came 
over  to  see  the  tracks,  and  was  so  impressed 
that  he  hauled  over  four  bear-traps  and  set 
them  in  the  paths.  Michelin  himself  would 
sit  day  after  day  at  the  window,  his  repeating- 
rifle  in  his  hand,  and  not  leaving  his  position 
even  for  meals,  on  the  off  chance  of  a  shot  at 
his  unearthly  visitor.  The  chief  wood-ranger 
from  the  big  mill  told  me  he  had  seen  the 
tracks  but  what  to  say  of  them  he  did  not 
know.  No  new  tracks  appeared  for  some 
weeks,  however,  and  Michelin  quite  recovered 
his  equanimity. 

The  insistence  on  dogma  has  found  little 
place  on  the  program  of  the  workers  of  our 
Labrador  Mission.  Our  efforts  to  interpret 
the  message  we  would  convey  are  aimed  rath- 
er in  the  direction  of  endeavoring  to  do  for 


34  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

our  fellow-men  on  this  coast,  in  every  relation 
of  life,  those  things  which  we  should  like  them 
to  do  for  us  in  similar  circumstances. 

As  I  sit  writing  in  the  chart-house,  I  can 
read  across  the  front  of  the  little  hospital  off 
which  we  are  anchored  the  words  of  a  text 
thirty-six  feet  long.  It  was  carved  in  solid 
wood  by  a  boys'  class  in  Boston.  It  reads: 
"Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the 
least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it 
unto  me." 

I  have  most  faith  in  unwritten  sermons. 
Still,  the  essential  elements  of  our  faith  are 
preached  orally  at  times  by  all  of  us.  And 
in  this  relation  it  has  been  my  good  fortune 
at  times  to  have  a  cook  or  a  deckhand  equally 
able  with  myself  to  gather  a  crowd  on  a  Sun- 
day morning  to  seek  God's  blessing  on  these 
barren  rocks.  We  can  also  believe  that  the 
noble  amphitheaters  that  these  mighty  cliffs 
afford  us  are  as  likely  to  prove  "Bethels"  as 
were  ever  the  more  stately  erections  of  the 
genius  of  man.  I  have  seen  new  men  made 
out  of  old  ones  on  this  very  coast,  new  hopes 
engendered  in  the  wrecks  of  humanity.  So  that 
once,  when  whispering  into  the  ear  of  a  dying 
man  on  board  a  tiny  schooner,  and  asking  him 
if  the  years  since  the  change  took  place  in  him 


The  NORTHERN  LIGHTS       35 

had  been  testified  to  by  his  life,  in  the  most 
natural  way  in  the  world  he  was  able  to  an- 
swer, "I  wish  you'd  ask  my  skipper,  Doctor." 
We  have  seen  in  our  tiny  hospitals  the  blind 
made  to  see,  the  lame  made  to  walk,  and  the 
weak  and  fearful  strengthened  to  face  the 
Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death.  But  the  ob- 
ject of  the  Labrador  Mission  is  to  help  men 
to  live,  and  not  to  die;  and  so  to  live  as  not 
merely  to  cumber  this  earth  for  a  few  more 
years,  but  to  live  as  worthier  sons  of  that 
great  Father  whose  face  we  all  expect  one  day 
to  see. 


II. 

"  Tis  Dogged  As  Does  It." 

THE  good  fore-and-aft  schooner  Rip- 
pling Wave  had  made  a  most  success- 
ful run  to  her  market,  which  happened 
this  year  to  be  in  the  Mediterranean.  The  fact 
that  she  had  not  left  the  Labrador  coast  till 
late  in  October  was  no  fault  of  hers  or  the 
skipper's;  for  if  there  was  one  ocean-going 
skipper  on  the  coast  known  to  be  more  of  a 
"snapper"  than  the  rest,  that  man  was  Elijah 
Anderson.  When  the  fish-planter  saw  Old 
'Lige  clewing  down  his  hatches,  and  trimming 
the  Rippling  Wave  for  the  "tri-across,"  he  felt 
satisfied  that  if  his  catch  lost  in  value  by  being 
late,  it  would  not  be  the  fault  of  a  craft  whose 
record  "couldn't  be  beat,"  or  of  a  master  who 
was  afraid  to  drive  her.  If  all  the  tales  were 
true,  Old  'Lige  had  been  known  to  clap  on  his 
topsails  when  other  men  were  lacing  their 
reef-earrings,  and  so  he  would  give  them  the 

36 


'Tis  DOGGED  as  DOES  It        37 

"go-by."  Many  a  time,  by  pressing  her,  he 
had  got  clear  of  one  of  those  cyclonic  storms 
which  are  the  bane  of  the  "roaring  forties"  in 
the  late  fall  of  the  year. 

But  this  year  easterly  winds  and  the  foggy 
blanket  they  fling  over  the  coast  had  hidden 
the  sunshine  that  the  fishermen  need  to  dry 
their  catches  of  fish,  and  'Lige  had  been 
jammed  in  and  kept  waiting  for  his  load,  long 
after  he  had  hoped  to  be  under  the  sunny  skies 
of  the  Mediterranean. 

But  to  the  Rippling  Wave,  as  to  everything 
else  that  waits,  the  great  day  had  come  at  last. 
The  cargo  was  all  stowed — hatches  sealed 
down — moorings  cast  off — the  parting  jolli- 
fications held.  She  had  not  even  to  delay  for 
a  tow  through  the  narrow  gulch  between  two 
islands  that  had  served  her  for  a  harbor,  in 
order  to  wait  in  the  roadstead  for  a  wind  that 
would  give  her  slant  enough  to  clear  the  off- 
lying  shoals  and  reefs  before  dark.  A  spank- 
ing nor'wester  had  sprung  up  just  as  Old 
'Lige  was  ready,  and,  with  flags  flying  and 
farewell  guns  banging,  she  had  cleared  with  a 
leading  wind  through  the  narrow  eastern 
tickle  and  was  hull  down  long  before  dark, 
leaving  good  sea-room  between  her  and  the 
outermost  shoals. 


38  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

Day  after  day,  without  exception,  the  wind 
held  abaft  the  beam,  and  the  miles  rolled  off 
like  water  from  a  duck's  back.  Had  she  been 
contesting  an  ocean  race  instead  of  carrying  a 
cargo  of  dry  cod,  her  record  would  have  vied 
with  that  of  the  sauciest  racing-machine  that 
has  ever  attempted  the  passage  from  Sandy 
Hook  to  the  Lizard. 

When  in  due  time  she  hove  to  under  the 
rock  of  Gibraltar  for  orders,  her  log  showed 
an  average  of  nearly  ten  knots  an  hour  all 
through — and  she  had  passed  the  3OO-miles 
limit  in  one  twenty-four  hours,  which  would 
have  shown  a  clean  pair  of  heels  to  the  aver- 
age tramp-steamer. 

Ordered  to  Patras  in  Greece,  she  again 
eclipsed  even  her  own  record.  She  had  out- 
distanced several  rivals  who  started  before  her 
from  Labrador,  and  had  "caught  the  market 
on  the  hop" — i  e.,  fish  was  scarce  and  there- 
fore in  such  demand  that  her  cargo  fetched 
splendid  prices. 

When  at  last  she  started  on  the  return  jour- 
ney to  her  Newfoundland  home,  after  calling 
at  Cadiz  for  a  cargo  of  salt,  no  lighter-hearted, 
happier  bunch  of  men  ever  trod  a  good  ship's 
deck.  To  most  of  us,  in  these  degenerate  days 
of  luxurious  floating  cities,  the  prospect  of  a 


'Tis  DOGGED  as  DOES  It        39 

passage  out  across  the  Western  Ocean  in  the 
month  of  December,  in  a  99-ton  schooner, 
would  not  be  dangerously  exhilarating.  But 
the  viking  stock  is  preserved  in  the  North 
lands  still,  and  these  men  were  all  Newfound- 
land fishermen,  with  the  genius  for  the  sea  in- 
born, with  minds  and  bodies  inured  from  child- 
hood to  every  mood  and  whim  of  the  mysteri- 
ous deep;  even  their  baby  hands  had  been 
taught  to  hold  a  tiller  and  to  pull  an  oar.  On 
the  dangerous  banks  they  had  served  their  ap- 
prenticeship, till  they  had  learned  to  fear  the 
perils  that  beset  them  no  more  than  we  land- 
lubbers fear  the  dangers  of  our  modern  streets. 
Their  finishing  course  had  been  in  butting  into 
the  everlasting  ice-floes  from  the  Polar  Sea  in 
search  of  seals,  and  running  home  a  loaded 
schooner  among  the  endless  reefs  of  the  un- 
charted, fog-ridden,  ice-frequented  coast  of 
Labrador.  They  graduated  when,  adrift  in  a 
dory  in  thick  fog  in  open  ocean,  without  food 
or  water,  they  had  run  for  days,  "Westward 
ho!"  for  the  land,  some  one  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  under  their  lee;  or  had  wandered  in 
darkness  over  loose  ice  astray  from  their  ves- 
sels, away  out  seal-hunting  on  the  Atlantic,  till 
half-frozen  and  half-stupefied  they  had  been 
picked  up,  only  to  return  cheerfully  to  the 


40  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

same  work  again,  as  soon  as  they  were  thawed 
out. 

So  when  once  again  the  Rippling  Wcn'c 
dropped  the  tug  and  braved  the  rollers  of  the 
wintry  ocean,  the  fact  that  it  was  the  first  day 
of  December  didn't  cause  them  even  to  look 
at  the  weather  glass,  or  think  of  anything  but 
the  stories  they  would  be  telling  of  their  great 
good  fortune  alongside  their  own  firesides  by 
Christmas  Day. 

But  man  proposes  and  God  disposes,  and 
there  was  that  in  the  womb  of  the  future 
for  the  crew  of  the  Rippling  Wave  which 
at  that  time  they  little  reckoned  of.  There 
were  lessons  to  be  learned  that  will  have 
served  some  of  them  well  when  they  come  to 
pass  the  last  bar,  and  "meet  their  Pilot  face 
to  face"  on  the  shore  of  the  great  ocean 
of  Eternity. 

It  is  always  harder  to  get  to  the  westward 
in  the  North  Atlantic  than  to  "run  east,"  for 
the  prevailing  winds  are  ever  from  southwest 
to  west  and  northwest.  But  the  Rippling 
Wave  was  a  weatherly  vessel,  and  the  fact  that 
by  the  middle  of  the  month  they  were  only 
in  40  west  longitude  and  40  north  latitude  did 
not  distress  her  skipper — though  if  he  would 
make  sure  now  of  being  at  home  by  Christ- 


'Tis  DOGGED  as  DOES  It        41 

mas  Day,  he  could  not  afford  to  ease  the  ship 
down  for  a  trifle. 

The  third  Friday  was  a  dirty  day.  The 
barometer  was  unaccountably  low,  and  the 
heavy  head  sea  made  pressing  even  the  Rip- 
pling Wave  to  windward  in  the  dark  some- 
what dangerous  to  the  hands  on  deck,  owing 
to  the  low  freeboard  that  their  heavy  cargo  of 
salt  allowed  them.  Old  'Lige  was  in  a  gen- 
erous mood — the  success  of  the  voyage  had 
made  him  more  soft-hearted  over  such  details 
than  these  men  of  the  sea  are  apt  to  be;  and, 
anyhow,  Friday  is  not  an  auspicious  day  to 
take  chances.  As  the  Mate  went  on  deck  for 
the  night  watch,  even  though  an  occasional 
star  did  show  up  in  the  heavens,  the  Skipper 
remarked  half  apologetically  to  him  as  he  was 
putting  on  his  oilskins,  "You  can  heave  her  to 
till  daylight,  Jim,  if  you  thinks  well." 

After  one  or  two  seas,  more  curly  than 
usual,  had  rolled  on  deck,  Jim  did  "think 
well,"  and  till  midnight  the  hands  below  en- 
joyed the  leisurely  motion  that  these  handy 
vessels  assume  when  jogging  "head  to  it"  in  a 
long  sea. 

Skipper  'Lige  had  just  turned  in,  and  was 
peacefully  enjoying  his  well-earned  beauty 
sleep,  when  he  felt  something  touch  him  on 


42  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

the  arm,  from  which  his  relaxed  grip  had  but 
just  dropped  his  favorite  pipe  on  the  locker. 
He  started  up,  to  find  a  figure  in  dripping  oil- 
skins bending  over  him. 

As  soon  as  he  grasped  the  fact  that  he  was 
back  in  the  world  of  realities,  he  realized  that 
the  Mate  wanted  him  on  deck  to  give  an 
opinion  as  to  a  strange  darkness  that  seemed 
to  be  crossing  the  ship's  path  low  down  over 
the  water.  Half  a  second  was  enough  for 
him  to  get  his  head  out  of  the  hatchway,  fol- 
lowing the  Mate  who  had  scurried  up  before 
him,  and  his  experience  at  once  told  him  the 
truth.  "JumP  f°r  y°ur  h'fe»  Jim!"  ne  yelled; 
"it's  a  water-spout."  The  two  men  had 
hardly  time  to  fall  in  a  heap  down  the  com- 
panion ladder,  when  something  struck  the 
good  ship  like  a  mighty  explosion. 

Over  she  went — shook — trembled — rose 
again;  and  then  up — up — up  went  the  cabin 
floor,  both  men  being  hurled  against  the  for- 
'ard  bulkhead,  which  temporarily  assumed  the 
position  the  floor  had  occupied  the  moment  be- 
fore. The  Rippling  Wave  was  standing  liter- 
ally on  her  head,  and  it  was  a  question  which 
way  she  would  come  down. 

But  there  wasn't  time  to  get  anxious  about 
it.  Another  mighty  heave  or  two,  a  sudden 


'Tis  DOGGED  as  DOES  It        43 

sickening  feeling,  and  the  two  men  were  roll- 
ing about  in  the  water  on  the  cabin  floor.  But 
the  ship  was  evidently  the  right  way  up.  "On 
deck!"  roared  the  Captain,  and  both  men  were 
up  in  time  to  know  that  the  crew,  who  had 
been  literally  drowned  out  for'ard,  were  also 
scrambling  aft  in  the  darkness  to  learn  what 
to  do  next.  All  lights  were  out,  and  every- 
thing was  awash,  for  the  scuppers  could 
scarcely  drain  off  the  water  quick  enough  to 
clear  the  waterlogged  ship  of  the  seas  that 
rolled  over  her  counter,  as  she  wallowed  broad- 
side to  it  in  the  trough  of  the  sea. 

Knowledge,  to  be  of  any  value,  must  be  in- 
tuitive on  these  occasions.  Instinctively  the 
Captain  had  rushed  to  the  tiller.  The  lanyards 
had  broken  adrift,  and  the  helm  was  appar- 
ently hard  up.  Frantically  the  Skipper  tried 
to  force  it  over  to  get  the  ship's  head,  if  pos- 
sible, to  the  sea.  Alas!  the  rudder  was  un- 
shipped and  fast  jammed.  The  lower  gud- 
geon was  off  the  pintail,  and  the  trusty  Rip- 
pling Wave  found  herself  free  to  put  her  head 
in  just  whatever  direction  she  liked  best. 

Somehow,  it  seemed  that  she  was  endowed 
with  sense,  and  that  she  meant  to  stand  by  her 
Skipper.  For  hazily,  but  surely,  she  rounded 
up  in  time  to  prevent  herself  from  filling.  The 


44  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

men,  meanwhile,  had  seized  the  axes,  and,  al- 
most before  'Lige  Anderson  had  issued  his  or- 
ders, they  had  ventured  for'ard  again,  to  try 
and  clear  away  the  wreckage. 

They  soon  realized  that  virtually  everything 
for'ard  had  gone  by  the  board;  for  the  solid 
spout  water  had  hit  the  foremast  about  half 
way  up,  and  had  then  broken,  falling  in  count- 
less tons  on  the  devoted  deck.  For'ard  of  the 
middle  line  nothing  was  left.  The  mast, 
boom,  gaff  and  sails  were  missing,  with  rig- 
ging, ropes  and  everything  attached.  The 
bowsprit,  jibboom,  winch  and  paulbitts, 
anchors,  chains,  fore-companion,  fore-hatch 
and  galley  were  nowhere  to  be  seen.  The 
decks  were  torn  open  so  widely  that  one  man 
fell  through  to  his  thigh  between  two  strips 
of  planking.  Much  of  the  bulwarks  and 
stanchions  were  gone,  as  were  also  both  the 
life-boats  and  jolly-boat,  and  every  drop  of 
water  that  came  aboard  poured  into  the  hull, 
threatening  to  engulf  the  ship  in  a  few  min- 
utes. Probably  what  saved  her  was  the  fact 
that  some  of  the  torn  remnants  of  canvas  were 
still  on  deck,  or  rather  in  it,  for  the  last  of 
the  fore-staysail  was  so  hard  driven  through 
the  open  seams  above  the  foc'sle,  that  the  men 
were  unable  to  start  a  rag  of  it,  much  as  they 


'Tis  DOGGED  as  DOES  It        45 

needed  it  to  cover  up  some  of  the  other  yawn- 
ing gaps. 

With  the  doggedness  that  characterizes  such 
men,  they  had  succeeded  before  daylight  in 
getting  out  of  the  waterlogged  cabins  some 
nails  and  spare  canvas,  and  with  these  they 
had  covered  over  every  large  opening.  Be- 
low the  water  line  the  almost  solid-timbered 
vessel  was  still  apparently  sound,  though  the 
stump  of  the  foremast  was  unstepped,  with  the 
result  that  its  foot,  rolling  round  in  the  deck 
gammon,  was  so  thumping  the  bilge  inside 
that  it  threatened  every  moment  to  smash 
through  the  sides.  There  was  enough  left  of 
it,  however,  above  decks,  to  make  it  valuable 
for  a  "jury-mast,"  and  the  Mate  with  two 
volunteers  climbed  down  into  the  hold  and 
succeeded  in  jamming  it  into  an  upright  posi- 
tion. 

In  that  dark,  rolling  box,  soaked  through 
with  the  water  swashing  about  in  it,  not  know- 
ing but  that  at  any  moment  they  might  go 
down  like  rats  in  a  barrel,  their  task  required 
no  ordinary  skill  and  courage.  But  they  man- 
aged to  accomplish  it,  fixing  the  foot  of  the 
mast  in  place  with  wooden  stays  captured 
from  the  broken  rails.  The  rest  of  the  crew 
stood  to  the  pumps.  Daylight,  struggling 


46  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

through  the  murky  sky,  revealed  a  situation 
that  looked  hopeless  enough. 

For  forty-eight  hours  every  man  was  at 
work  helping  to  jettison  the  salt  and  every 
other  available  ounce  of  weight  that  could  be 
dispensed  with,  or  taking  his  trick  at  the 
pumps,  under  the  stern  eye  and  unflinching 
example  of  Skipper  'Lige. 

Hour  after  hour,  without  a  wink  of  sleep 
or  any  refreshment  but  pieces  of  hard  biscuit 
that  once  had  been  dry,  they  fought  on  with 
sullen  strength  and  energy. 

When  the  galley  went,  every  pot,  pan  and 
cooking  utensil  had  gone  by  the  board  with 
it.  Not  a  bite  of  food  could  be  cooked,  nor 
a  sup  of  drink  be  heated.  There  was  one 
thing,  however,  that  these  men  brought  to 
their  aid.  Like  most  Newfoundland  fisher- 
men, they  were  praying  men.  They  knew 
that  praying  at  such  a  time  is  no  substitute  for 
work,  but  they  knew  also  that  attitude  counts 
for  nothing  in  the  sight  of  the  Almighty,  and 
not  one  of  them  had  forgotten  to  "call  upon 
the  Lord  in  their  trouble,  that  He  would  de- 
liver them  out  of  their  distress." 

But  at  last  the  instinct  of  self-preservation 
began  to  lose  its  energy,  as  there  came  time 
to  think,  and  they  began  to  realize  the  appar- 


Tij  DOGGED  as  DOES  It        47 

ent  futility  of  continuing  the  unequal  strug- 
gle. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  it  was  the  dead 
of  winter.  They  were  in  the  middle  of  the 
North  Atlantic.  The  water  was  bitterly  cold, 
and  they  were  bruised,  wet  and  exhausted. 
They  were,  too,  far  out  of  the  winter  route 
of  trans-Atlantic  liners.  The  chance  of  be- 
ing picked  up  seemed  infinitesimal,  and  it 
was  obvious  that  with  no  boat  left  it  was 
impossible  to  escape  from  the  wreck.  Small 
wonder  that  faith  and  hope  began  at  last  to 
fail! 

But  all  hands  worked  on  incessantly  at  the 
pumps,  and  at  the  cargo.  Hour  after  hour, 
watch  relieved  watch,  and  the  clank,  clank, 
clank  of  the  pumps,  that  alone  broke  the  mon- 
otony of  silence,  was  almost  enough  to  drive 
men  mad. 

They  were  apparently  making  no  headway 
in  raising  the  ship  out  of  the  water.  They 
were  merely  keeping  her  afloat.  But  if  'Lige 
Anderson  were  to  abandon  hope  it  meant 
abandoning  himself,  and  he  was  still  sane.  In 
the  hours  between  the  spells  of  the  pumping, 
which  he  shared  with  his  men — hours  which 
he  ought  to  have  devoted  to  rest* — the  Skipper 
had  by  no  means  been  idle,  and  he  was  now 


48  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

able  to  hearten  the  rest  with  three  discoveries 
he  had  made. 

First,  the  after  half  of  the  ship  was  abso- 
lutely sound;  so  were  her  mainmast  and  sails. 
Moreover,  he  had  been  able  to  rig  a  "jury"- 
rudder,  which  more  or  less  guided  the  ship. 
He  had  set  to  work  with  these  as  a  basis  to 
rig  a  jury-foremast  that  would  carry  a  small 
sail.  He  had  dried  out  the  after  cabin,  and 
fortified  and  caulked  as  far  as  possible  the 
fore  bulkhead,  to  give  a  water-tight  division 
from  the  hold.  In  this  it  was  possible  to  get 
some  rest. 

Secondly,  he  had  found  his  logbook  and 
sextant,  and  though  the  latter  proved  useless 
owing  to  the  sun  being  continually  invisible, 
it  certainly  was  a  source  of  hope.  The  last 
entry  in  the  logbook  on  the  day  before  the  ac- 
cident led  him  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was 
about  fifty  miles  south  of  the  track  of  the 
ocean  liners. 

Thirdly,  from  his  almanac  he  found  that 
there  was  still  a  forlorn  chance  that  some 
steamers  might  still  be  running  by  the  north- 
ern route. 

It  was  difficult  to  make  sure  which  way  the 
wreck  was  really  moving.  But  he  could  now 
keep  her  heading  somehow  to  the  west'ard, 


'Tis  DOGGED  as  DOES  It        49 

and  it  was  possible  that  she  might  still  be 
worked  to  a  position  where  they  could  expect 
to  be  sighted  if  such  was  the  case.  A  more 
trivial  discovery,  but  one  that  counted  not  a 
little  in  the  hearts  of  his  Newfoundland  crew, 
was  an  old  tin  paintpot,  with  a  sound  bottom. 
This  Captain  'Lige  had  managed  to  clean  up, 
and  over  the  tiny  stove  in  his  cabin  he  had 
been  able  to  brew  enough  hot  tea  to  serve  out 
a  drink  all  round.  These  facts  he  now  thought 
good  to  announce  to  the  crew;  and,  heartened 
by  the  'warm  tea,  they  stood  to  the  pumps 
again,  as  night  came  on,  with  fresh  faith  and 
energy.  Slowly  they  edged,  and  worked,  and 
drifted,  as  they  hoped,  northwards!  If  only 
they  could  make  a  hundred  miles  of  northing 
their  lives  might  yet  be  spared. 

A  week  had  now  gone  by  since  the  accident, 
and  a  settled  gloom,  close  akin  to  despair,  had 
settled  upon  the  men.  As  is  often  the  case, 
however,  just  in  the  nick  of  time  a  thing  hap- 
pened which,  trivial  as  it  may  seem  to  us, 
meant  very  much  to  them.  The  sun  for  the 
first  time  suddenly  shot  out  thro'  the  drift 
about  mid-day,  and  the  Skipper  was  able  to 
get  his  bearings  and  tell  them  that,  though 
they  were  farther  to  the  westward,  they  had 


5o  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

made  at  least  thirty  miles  to  the  nor'ard  also. 
Moreover,  he  was  wise  enough,  seeing  that 
they  were  rather  more  than  holding  their  own, 
to  tell  off  one  man  from  each  watch  to  keep  a 
look-out  from  the  mainmast  head.  Though 
nothing  was  seen  to  encourage  them,  yet  the 
fact  that  the  Skipper  believed  it  was  now 
likely  that  they  would  sight  something,  acted 
as  a  fresh  charm,  and  for  yet  another  four 
days  the  clank,  clank,  clank  of  the  pumps 
maintained  its  even  tenor. 

The  salt  was  now  all  out  of  the  boat,  and 
this  halved  the  time  that  each  man  had  to 
work  pumping.  But  as  day  after  clay  passed 
and  no  sail  was  seen,  and  the  ship  ceaselessly 
battled  with  the  angry  waters  running  be- 
tween a  northwest  and  southwest  gale,  flesh 
and  blood  began  to  give  way;  nerve  and 
muscle  had  been  strained  to  the  breaking 
point. 

By  the  fifteenth  morning  all  faith  in  the  pos- 
sibility of  salvation  had  so  departed  from 
some  of  the  men,  that  they  formally  proposed 
to  give  up  striving,  and  that  all  hands  should 
go  to  the  bottom  together.  Skipper  'Lige  was 
at  his  wits'  end.  Violence  was  out  of  the 
question.  No  man  aboard  would  have  minded 
even  death  at  his  hands.  His  only  subterfuge 


'Tis  DOGGED  as  DOES  It        51 

was  in  continually  pointing  his  sextant  at  the 
lowering  clouds,  in  inscribing  endless  succes- 
sions of  figures  in  his  book,  and  at  last  in  an- 
nouncing that  he  had  discovered  they  had 
reached  their  desired  goal.  Having  called 
them  together,  he  pointed  out  to  them  on  his 
well-thumbed  chart,  that  they  now  lay  exactly 
on  the  49th  parallel  of  latitude.  A  great  cross 
that  he  had  made  on  it  signified  the  position 
of  the  ship.  Exactly  through  this  point  ran 
many  lines  stretching  from  the  Fastnet  to 
New  York,  intersecting  in  his  picture  the  spot 
that  represented  the  ship.  "Them  there  lines," 
he  announced,  "be  the  tracks  o'  them  big 
steamers.  They  always  races  across,  and  this 
be  the  shortest  way  for  'em  to  go." 

It  would  not  have  required  much  acumen 
on  the  part  of  the  audience  to  detect  the  fact 
that  the  lines  on  the  paper  were  not  as  old 
as  the  discourse  suggested.  But  men  in  the 
condition  of  these  poor  fellows  are  not  in- 
clined to  be  critical.  All  that  was  required 
of  them  was  to  move  a  handle  up  and  down, 
and  the  Skipper  had  staked  his  all  on  their  not 
questioning  what  he  told  them.  They  scanned 
his  face  narrowly,  and  saw  that  he  seemed  so 
hopeful  that  once  again  the  poor  fellows  re- 
turned to  their  duty  at  the  pumps.  "Now  we 


52  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

be  in  the  track  of  steamers,  boys,"  the  Skipper 
said,  "us'll  wait  right  here,  sink  or  swim. 
Let's  keep  at  it  so  long  as  us  can  stand.  They 
sha'n't  call  us  cowards  anyhow."  In  all  this 
the  Mate  bravely  backed  him  up.  And  so 
again,  though  the  response  was  feebler  than 
before,  the  clank,  clank,  clank  of  the  pumps 
kept  on,  as  the  plucky  fellows  doggedly  set 
their  hands  to  the  work. 

The  morning  of  the  seventeenth  day  broke 
with  a  clear  horizon  under  an  oily,  sullen  sky. 
The  remnant  of  a  ship  still  tossed  up  and 
down,  up  and  down,  on  the  troubled  waters. 
Forward  the  Rippling  Wave  looked  now  only 
like  a  bunch  of  weather-beaten  boards.  Hour 
by  hour,  the  weary  clank  of  the  pumps  alone 
announced  that  there  was  any  life  aboard, 
and  that  she  was  more  than  a  mere  derelict 
on  that  dreary  expanse  of  waters.  Though 
dispirited  and  half  dead,  not  one  man  yet 
gave  in.  Now  and  again  one  could  no  longer 
stand  to  do  his  work,  yet  as  soon  as  he  had 
rested,  the  faith  of  the  others  roused  him  to 
action,  and  he  struggled  back,  even  if  it  were 
only  to  fall  down  at  his  place  at  the  handles. 

It  was  just  10  A.  M.  when  the  watch  at  the 
masthead  called  the  Skipper.  "Smoke  on  the 
horizon  to  the  east-northeast,"  he  shouted.  So 


'Tis  DOGGED  as  DOES  It         53 

far  gone  were  some  of  the  men  that  they 
took  no  notice  of  the  announcement;  even  if 
they  heard,  it  seemed  too  wonderful  to  be 
true.  But  in  two  seconds  the  Skipper  was 
aloft  by  the  side  of  the  watch,  and  shouting 
"Steamer  coming,  boys;  keep  her  going!" 

Little  by  little  the  cloud,  at  first  no  larger 
than  a  man's  hand,  grew  bigger  and  bigger, 
till  the  hull  of  a  vessel  was  visible  like  a  tiny 
speck  beneath  it.  There  was  no  need  now 
to  cheer  on  the  men.  The  watch  below  was 
turned  out  to  "wear"  the  ship,  that  they  might, 
as  far  as  possible,  drive  across  the  head  of 
the  approaching  vessel.  The  improvised  flags, 
long  ago  made  ready  out  of  bed  clothing,  were 
hoisted  to  the  tops,  and  a  pile  of  matchwood 
was  prepared  in  a  tar  barrel  on  deck  to  make 
a  good  smoke. 

The  excitement  on  board  can  better  be  im- 
agined than  described.  But  though  their 
eyes  were  strained  to  the  utmost,  they  could 
not  make  out  that  the  stranger  got  the  least 
bit  nearer,  and  it  wasn't  long  before  'Lige 
realized  that  no  help  could  be  expected  from 
that  quarter.  For  the  speck  grew  no  larger, 
and  eventually  disappeared  again  behind  the 
wilderness  of  waters. 

The  reaction  was  proportionate  to  the  ex- 


'54  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

hilaration,  and  an  awful  despondency  fell 
upon  all  hands  when  their  hope  of  safety  had 
again  sunk  out  of  sight. 

The  Skipper's  resourcefulness  was  not  ex- 
hausted, however,  and  he  spoke  to  the  crew 
as  if  he  were  in  the  greatest  spirits.  "You 
see  we'll  be  all  right  now,  boys,"  he  said.  "Our 
reckoning  be  just  as  I  told  you.  Us'll  work 
a  mile  or  two  more  to  the  nor'ard,  and  be 
home  by  the  New  Year  if  we  aren't  by  Christ- 
mas." He  took  care  to  emphasize  his  faith 
by  serving  out  an  extra  and  earlier  dinner, 
so  that,  in  spite  of  themselves,  not  a  man 
slackened  at  the  pumps,  and  the  everlasting 
clank  droned  monotonously  on. 

The  afternoon  was  wearing  away,  when 
suddenly  once  again  the  eagle  eye  at  the  mast- 
head spied  smoke.  This  time  it  was  in  the 
western  sky  and  'Lige  took  a  bigger  risk. 
Twice  as  much  inside  planking  as  before  was 
torn  from  the  sides  of  the  hold  to  enlarge 
the  bonfire.  So  big  grew  the  pile  that  it  could 
scarcely  be  kindled  without  endangering  the 
vessel.  As  the  speck  grew  bigger,  hope  grew 
proportionately  large,  and  without  any  word 
from  the  Skipper,  the  pulse  rate  of  the  pump 
reached  a  fever  speed.  Closer  and  closer  came 
the  stranger.  It  seemed  impossible  that  she 


'Tis  DOGGED  as  DOES  It        $$ 

should  pass  now  without  seeing-  them.  Evi- 
dently she  was  a  small  cargo  tramp  in  bal- 
last, and  no  doubt  lightly  manned.  She  was 
now  almost  abeam,  but  still  she  showed  no 
signs  of  recognition.  Possibly  the  only  man 
on  watch  was  in  the  wheelhouse,  there  being 
apparently  no  reason  for  a  special  watch.  Or 
possibly  the  outlook  man  was  smoking  his 
pipe  under  some  shelter  from  the  weather. 
'Lige,  through  his  glasses,  had  long  ago 
learned  that  there  was  no  one  on  the  upper 
bridge.  That  she  was  an  endless  time  ap- 
proaching seemed  to  him  their  best  chance  of 
being  seen.  For  surely  some  one  would  be 
on  deck  to  sight  them  before  it  was  too  late. 
But  she  passed  them  by  like  a  phantom  ship 
with  a  crew  of  dead  men  on  board;  and  to 
this  day  no  one  on  board  knows  why. 

It  was  getting  dark,  and  the  wind  was  ris- 
ing again,  with  a  sea  making  from  the  nor'- 
west.  The  dumb  despair  that  had  all  along 
been  a  kind  of  opiate,  allaying  any  fear  of 
death,  had  been  rudely  removed  by  the  awak- 
ened thoughts  of  home,  rest  and  safety,  and 
by  the  apparent  certainty  of  at  last  being  res- 
cued. The  suspense  as  the  steamer  passed 
by  had  made  the  enfeebled  men  conscious 
of  the  bitterness  of  death,  and  aroused  in 


156  'DOWN  to  The  SEA 

them  an  emotion  that  was  perilously  near  to 
fear. 

There  could  be  no  disguising  the  fact  that 
the  end  was  very  near  at  hand.  The  mere 
pretense  of  work  that  they  were  now  able  to 
make  was  at  last  permitting  the  water  to  gain 
on  the  pumps;  and  finally  the  relief  watch 
failed  to  stand  to  their  work.  No  one  was  in 
a  mood  for  speaking  now.  The  Skipper  him- 
self silently  strode  to  one  of  the  handles  the 
men  had  dropped,  and  commenced  mechani- 
cally to  heave  it  up  and  down. 

Only  a  minute,  however,  did  he  labor  alone. 
Without  breaking  the  silence,  the  gallant  Mate, 
whose  turn  it  was  to  rest,  placed  himself  at 
the  other  handle  again,  and  the  play  at  "pump- 
ing the  ship"  went  on.  There  seemed  to  be 
no  hope.  The  night  promised  to  be  their  last 
on  earth.  But  they  were  men,  and  they  would 
at  least  die  fighting,  for  no  man  can  tell  what 
may  be  wrested  from  the  fates  by  a  dauntless 
faith. 

The  horizon  had  already  faded  into  the 
lowering  sky  overhead,  and  before  the  sun 
rose  again,  the  long-drawn  agony  would  be 
over,  and  the  bitterness  of  death  passed. 


TM  DOGGED  as  DOES  It        57 

But  it  was  not  to  be.  Suddenly  a  loud  cry 
from  for'ard  for  the  last  time  stopped  the 
pumps.  Sure  enough,  there  was  a  bright  light 
away  to  the  eastward,  now  and  again  bobbing 
up  over  the  waters.  It  has  always  seemed 
right  to  Skipper  'Lige  that  their  salvation 
should  have  come  out  of  the  East.  In  his  own 
mind,  so  he  says,  he  hadn't  the  slightest  doubt, 
then,  that  all  would  be  well. 

It  was  plain  to  him  that  the  usefulness  of 
the  pumps  was  at  an  end,  and  that  his  last 
move  in  the  game  of  life  must  now  be  played. 
He  was  always  known  as  a  silent  man,  but  on 
this  occasion  a  corpse  would  have  heard  him. 
The  half-dead  crew  were  on  their  legs  in  less 
time  than  it  takes  to  write  it.  He  had  himself 
but  recently  come  down  from  the  mainmast- 
head,  where  he  had  been  fixing  fast  to  the 
crosstrees  a  barrel  full  of  combustibles.  Now, 
forcing  an  unlighted  flare  into  the  hands  of 
the  Mate,  "To  the  masthead,"  he  roared,  "and 
light  up  when  I  do!  Up  the  foremast!"  he 
screamed  into  the  ear  of  his  third  hand,  above 
the  roaring  of  the  wind  and  sea,  "and  take  this 
old  can  o'  tar  with  yer."  For'ard  and  aft  he 
led  the  rest  with  their  axes.  All  were  work- 
ing like  madmen,  with  a  strength  that  was 
like  the  final  flare-up  of  a  flickering  lamp.  Soon 


58  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

large  pieces  of  wood  had  been  torn  off  from 
the  hatches,  lockers,  rails,  bulwarks,  and  even 
the  decking.  They  hacked  it  from  anywhere, 
so  long  only  as  the  pile  on  deck  should  grow 
in  size.  But  even  as  they  worked  the  water 
was  steadily  increasing  in  the  hold,  and  every 
man  was  conscious  that  the  Rippling  Wave 
was  sinking  under  them. 

Sometimes — it  seemed  for  ages — the  ap- 
proaching light  disappeared  from  view;  yet 
the  axes  kept  going,  and  the  pile  of  wood 
steadily  grew.  To  restrain  the  crew  from 
setting  fire  to  it  during  these  apparently  in- 
terminable intervals  required  a  nerve  on  the 
part  of  the  Skipper  that  they  themselves  no 
longer  possessed.  But  even  at  that  moment, 
with  death  standing  at  their  very  side,  they 
were  held  to  an  absolute  obedience.  Their  rev- 
erence for  their  indomitable  Captain  had  long 
since  grown  into  a  superstitious  fear.  As  it 
was,  the  sound  of  axe  and  lever,  as  once  on  the 
walls  of  ancient  Rome,  alone  broke  the  death- 
like silence  every  man  maintained. 

Suddenly,  without  a  moment's  warning,  a 
huge  black  mass  rose  up  out  of  the  water, 
towering  far  overhead  like  some  fabulous 
monster  of  the  sea.  The  right  moment  had 
arrived.  So  'Lige  Anderson  fired  his  last 


'Tis  DOGGED  as  DOES  It        59 

shot,  and  lit  his  flare.  In  an  instant  the  ves- 
sel was  ablaze.  Fore  and  aft,  aloft,  and  on 
the  water-line,  the  ship  seemed  one  roaring 
mass  of  flames,  which  shot  high  into  the 
heavens  above  her  each  time  the  waterlogged 
hull  rolled  heavily  to  windward.  A  moment 
later  a  brilliant  search-light  still  further  blind- 
ed the  men  on  her  deck,  and  afforded  the 
pleasure-seekers  who  were  crowding  to  the 
rail  of  that  floating  palace  (for  it  proved  to  be 
a  steamer  on  a  trip  round  the  world)  such  a 
scene  as  in  their  lives  they  are  never  likely 
to  look  on  again.  It  was  a  scene  well  able 
to  bear  all  the  light  that  could  be  thrown  upon 
it.  For  these  fishermen  had  fought  a  fight 
worthy  of  the  traditions  of  the  best  days  of 
viking  seamanship. 

The  huge  steamer  turned  to  wind'ard  and 
stopped  short  close  to  them.  A  loud  voice 
called  through  a  megaphone,  "Can  you  hold 
on  till  morning?"  There  was  no  hesitation 
in  giving,  and  no  possibility  of  doubting,  the 
answer.  So  close  were  the  vessels  that  every 
man  heard  the  question,  and  every  throat 
shouted  back  the  same  answer  as  from  one 
man,  "No,  we  are  sinking!"  The  swash  of 
the  fast-gaining  water,  surging  loudly  to  and 
fro  in  the  hold,  lent  emphasis  to  the  reply. 


60  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

Only  the  voice  of  Skipper  'Lige  once  more 
broke  the  silence.  "We  are  played  out;  we 
can't  last  till  daylight." 

Words  are  poor  things  at  best,  but  the 
words  that  came  back  this  time  thrilled  them 
all  as  words  had  never  thrilled  before.  "Then 
stand  by;  we'll  try  for  you  now."  The  Cap- 
tain on  the  bridge  had  no  need  to  ask  for  vol- 
unteers, though  the  night  was  black  as  pitch 
by  now,  and  the  danger  of  launching  a  boat 
in  that  rolling  sea  was  a  terrible  one  indeed. 

The  steamer  was  a  German  liner  from 
Hamburg.  The  perishing  men  were  only  com- 
mon British  fishermen.  But  there  is  a  touch 
of  nature  that  makes  the  whole  world  kin, 
and  the  gold-laced  Captain  bore  a  true  sailor's 
heart  beneath  his  dapper  uniform.  Had  he 
listened  to  the  dictates  of  his  own  emotions, 
he  would  himself  have  been  the  first  man  in 
the  boat.  In  spite  of  his  brilliant  searchlight, 
the  wreck  to  him  looked  but  the  after  half  of 
a  vessel,  as  if  a  ship  had  been  cut  in  two.  Pride 
in  the  sheer  brotherhood  of  the  sea,  that  there 
still  lived  men  that  could  do  the  things  these 
men  had  done,  almost  led  him  to  throw  dis- 
cretion to  the  winds,  and  share  in  person  the 
welcome  danger  of  the  rescue. 

But  wiser  counsels  prevailed,  and  the  well- 


'Tis  DOGGED  as  DOES  It        61 

trained  life-saving  crew  that  such  vessels  al- 
ways carry  had  already  arranged  themselves 
in  position  by  the  side  of  the  steel  life-boat. 

There  was  no  lack  of  skill,  no  undue  haste, 
no  shortage  of  tackle.  But  long  ere  the  boat 
had  reached  the  water,  a  heavy  sea  had  swung 
her  into  the  iron  wall  of  the  ship's  side  and 
smashed  her  to  fragments.  Those  on  the 
wreck  had  witnessed  the  attempt,  and  also 
the  failure,  and  the  ominous  swash  of  the  wa- 
ter in  the  hold  seemed  louder  and  more  threat- 
ening than  a  few  minutes  ago.  Faster  the 
water  gained  on  them  as  deeper  the  wreck 
wallowed  in  the  seas;  yet  to  man  the  pumps 
now  was  not  even  thought  of.  The  last  die 
had  been  cast,  and,  without  making  any  con- 
scious resolution,  they  simply  stood  by  to 
watch  the  issue. 

The  big  ship  had  forged  ahead.  By  the 
time  she  had  regained  her  position,  a  wooden 
life-boat  was  already  on  its  way  down  from 
the  davits  with  the  men  in  it.  Close  to  wind- 
'ard  of  the  wreck  the  Captain  manceuvered  the 
steamer  to  shorten  the  distance  to  row,  if  by 
any  means  he  could  get  a  boat  launched  and 
safely  away.  Again  every  movement  was  vis- 
ible from  the  Rippling  Wave.  The  life-boat 
reached  the  water.  The  port  oars  were  out, 


62  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

but  before  the  for'ard  tackle  was  free,  a  great 
sea  drove  her  into  the  vessel's  side  again.  The 
rescuing  party  were  themselves  with  difficulty 
rescued,  and  their  boat  was  a  bundle  of  match- 
wood. 

All  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  steamer.  Could 
it  be  possible  that  they  would  be  discouraged 
and  give  up?  Even  Skipper  'Lige  expected 
to  be  hailed  again,  and  warned  that  he  must 
keep  afloat  till  daylight.  But  the  men  on  the 
liner  were  real  sailors,  and  not  the  faintest 
idea  of  abandoning  the  attempt  ever  entered 
their  heads.  At  sea,  a  thing  to  be  done  must 
be  done — and  that  is  the  end  of  it.  Cost  is  a 
factor  that  a  sailor's  mind  doesn't  trouble 
itself  about,  so  long  as  material  remains.  Anx- 
iety about  what  loss  may  be  involved  is  a  thing 
to  be  left  for  the  minds  of  landsmen,  and 
harries  Jack  less  than  it  does  a  Wall  Street 
millionaire. 

The  only  question  with  the  Captain  was, 
which  boat  next;  as  if  it  were  a  simple  ques- 
tion of  which  tool  would  best  serve  to  com- 
plete a  job  that  had  to  be  done.  A  light,  col- 
lapsible life-boat  seemed  to  promise  most. 
While  the  ship  was  again  getting  into  posi- 
tion, this  was  made  ready.  The  men  took  their 
places  in  her  and  were  almost  literally  dropped 


Tf5  DOGGED  as  DOES  It        63 

over  the  side,  as  the  monstrous  ship  lurched 
heavily  to  wind'ard.  There  was  just  one  mo- 
ment of  doubt,  and  then  arms  and  shoulders 
that  knew  no  denial  shot  their  frail  craft  clear 
of  the  ponderous  iron  wall.  Scarcely  a  mo- 
ment too  soon  did  they  reach  the  Rippling 
Wave.  Her  decks  were  little  better  than 
awash,  when  Skipper  'Lige,  the  last  man  to 
leave,  tumbled  over  the  rail  into  the  life-boat. 
Even  his  dog  had  preceded  him. 

Nor  was  the  wreck  left  to  be  a  possible 
water-logged  derelict,  to  the  danger  of  other 
ships.  What  was  left  of  the  kerosene  oil  was 
poured  over  her  as  a  parting  unction  and  then 
fired.  Before  the  last  man  was  safe  aboard 
the  steamer,  however,  the  Rippling  Wave, 
mantled  like  Elijah's  chariot  in  "flames  of 
fire,"  had  paid  her  last  tribute  to  the  powers 
she  had  so  long  successfully  withstood. 

A  line  fastened  to  a  keg  having  been  thrown 
over  from  the  steamer's  side,  was  picked  up 
without  approaching  too  near.  With  that  ab- 
sence of  hurry  that  characterizes  real  cour- 
age, the  life-boat  kept  off  (with  her  stern  to 
the  dangerous  side  of  iron)  until  each  of  the 
rescued  men  had  been  safely  hauled  aboard  in 
breeches  of  cloth,  secured  to  a  running  tackle. 
Even  the  dog  would  have  been  saved  in  the 


64  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

same  way,  had  he  not  with  vain  struggling 
worked  loose  from  the  breeches  and  fallen 
into  the  sea;  as  it  was,  before  getting  the  life- 
boat aboard,  the  Captain  was  humane  enough 
to  peer  round  everywhere  with  his  searchlight, 
in  the  hope  of  finding  it.  The  rescued  were 
stripped,  bathed  and  fed,  and  snugly  stowed 
in  beds  such  as  they  had  seldom  even  seen  be- 
fore. 

From  the  kindly  passengers,  more  new  and 
warm  clothing  poured  in  upon  them,  next  day, 
than  they  had  ever  dreamed  of  possessing,  and 
the  journey  to  land  was  as  remarkable  to  them 
for  its  luxuries  as  had  been  the  past  fortnight 
for  its  privations. 

Though  Christmas  Day  had  after  all  been 
spent  on  the  Rippling  Wave,  New  Year's  Eve 
found  them  in  the  lap  of  luxury.  At  dinner  in 
the  grand  saloon,  to  which  every  man  was  in- 
vited, Skipper  'Lige  occupied  the  seat  of  honor 
next  the  Captain.  There  was  a  general  feel- 
ing that  it  was  a  great  occasion.  Never  be- 
fore had  the  close  of  an  old  year  spoken  so 
forcibly  of  the  fickleness  of  life  to  many  of 
the  others  present.  After  a  few  seasonable 
and  brief  speeches  had  been  made  by  some  of 
the  guests,  the  climax  was  reached  when  the 
Captain — who,  at  his  own  expense,  had  or- 


'Tis  DOGGED  as  DOES  It        65 

dered  some  dozens  of  champagne  to  be  served 
out  all  'round — in  terse  sailor  language  pro- 
posed the  toast  of  the  evening.  There  were 
few  dry  eyes  among  those  who  drank  "To  the 
wives  and  children  of  the  brave  men  it  has  been 
our  good  fortune  to  save." 


III. 

Danny's  Deliverance. 

THE  long  winter  was  again  approach- 
ing. The  short  summer  season  was 
over.  Ice  was  forming  in  all  the  inlets 
and  coves.  The  great  fleets  of  fishermen 
had  started  for  their  southern  homes  once 
more,  and  day  by  day  the  stream  of  white- 
winged  schooners  flitting  south  had  been 
gradually  getting  thinner,  until  the  very  last 
of  the  stragglers  had  passed  by.  Out  there  in 
the  offing,  even  at  the  distance  they  pass  from 
the  harbor  heads,  they  afford  us  a  little  com- 
pany. The  deepening  mantle  of  snow  had 
been  along,  hiding  on  the  land  every  vestige 
of  the  life  of  summer.  Only  the  gloomy  faces 
of  great  beetling  cliffs  tower  above  the  snow, 
as  if  to  taunt  us  with  the  reminder  that  we  can 
look  for  little  company  from  their  bleakness. 
Already  our  tiny  scattered  houses  are  scarcely 
more  than  white  hummocks  rising  above  the 
66 


THE    GLOOMY    FACES    OF    GREAT    BEETLING    CLIFFS 


DANNY'S  DELIVERANCE       67 

steadily  deepening  snow,  and  to  the  careless 
eye,  even  they  would  fail  altogether  to  sug- 
gest the  presence  of  the  human  life  with  its 
hopes  and  fears  within  them.  The  long  months 
of  the  approaching  winter  seemed  to  be  hover- 
ing over  us  like  a  great  cloud,  hostile  to  every 
form  of  life.  The  rapidly  shortening  days 
and  the  boisterous  winter  storms  seemed  to  be 
robbing  us  of  all  stir  and  bustle  that  at  other 
times  help  to  save  from  melancholy. 

True,  the  great  masses  of  ice,  borne  ever 
southward  on  the  ocean  current,  were  day 
by  day  increasing  in  size,  and  in  resemblance 
in  shape  to  the  vessels  that  have  gone,  as  if 
they  were  trying  their  best  to  fill  the  void. 
They  only  seem,  however,  to  deepen  the  feel- 
ing of  utter  desolation  that  has  overtaken  us 
beside  our  fast  closing  highway;  for  they 
bear  them  but  a  grim  resemblance,  like  the 
spectres  of  departed  friends. 

It  was  close  to  Christmas,  and  our  little 
mail  steamer,  paying  us  her  last  visit  for  the 
winter,  was  lying  far  out  in  the  ice.  Her  crew 
was  slinging  out,  onto  the  standing  edge,  for 
want  of  a  better  landing  stage,  such  poor 
freight  as  our  people's  slender  stock  of  money 
could  buy  for  the  winter.  The  rattle  of  her 
derrick,  and  the  throb  of  her  deck-winch, 


68  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

seemed,  like  some  unpitying  bell,  to  be  tolling 
out  the  death  knell  of  the  last  tie  that  bound  us 
to  the  living  world  outside. 

The  little  vessel  was  in  a  hurry.  Already 
Arctic  icefloes  outside  were  threatening  to 
cut  off  her  retreat  to  the  south,  so  that  as  the 
chain-fall  rattled  out  over  the  pulleys,  heavy 
clouds  of  smoke  rising  from  her  funnel  warned 
us  she  was  silently  gathering  power  to  snap 
even  this  our  last  poor  link  with  civilization. 

Still  loath  to  be  absent,  as  it  were,  from 
even  the  obsequies  of  a  valued  friend,  or  like 
the  curious  crowd  that  gathers  when  a  funeral 
is  in  process,  we,  too,  had  driven  our  dogs 
out  alongside  her,  and  were  standing  looking 
at  her  iron  sides  rising  perpendicularly  from 
the  ice.  Forlorn-looking  dog  teams  were 
standing  by,  and  here  a  few  men  were  half 
heartedly  groping  with  a  long  sealing  gaff 
in  the  crack  between  the  ice  and  the  steamer, 
for  a  truant  box  of  cheese  that  in  the  hurry 
had  fallen  into  the  water  and  kept  bobbing 
up  and  disappearing  again  in  the  slob. 

Suddenly  a  voice  from  the  deck  above  called 
out  "Hello,  Doctor?  There  is  a  patient  for 
the  hospital  on  board?" 

"Is  there?"  I  answered.  "You  had  better 
throw  him  down  or  he  will  escape  us." 


DANNY'S  DELIVERANCE       69 

"Can't  you  come  up  on  deck?"  came  back 
the  reply.  "The  companion  ladder  is  on  the 
other  side." 

As  I  followed  the  steward  aft  into  the 
steerage  cabin  I  could  hear  the  first  sounds 
of  the  propeller  rotating,  making  the  ship 
vibrate.  Hurriedly  we  entered  the  cabin  with 
its  large  open  space  filled  with  tiers  of  iron 
cots,  like  bookshelves  in  some  model  library. 
It  seemed  at  first  like  one  vast  empty  grid- 
iron. But  guided  by  the  steward,  I  came  at 
last  on  a  lump  at  one  end  of  a  cot,  hidden  from 
sight  in  a  tangle  of  bed-clothes.  Pulling  back 
the  blankets  we  found  a  wizened  looking  boy, 
small  for  his  fourteen  years.  His  legs  were 
drawn  up  under  his  chin,  and  his  one  object 
seemed  to  be  to  hide  himself  from  view.  He 
would  not  speak  to  us  and  we  had  to  rely 
entirely  on  the  steward  for  his  story.  He  had 
been  brought  aboard  during  the  flying  visit 
of  the  mail-boat  to  an  absolutely  out-of-the- 
world  harbor  some  sixty  miles  away.  They 
had  carried  him  aboard,  manifestly  against 
his  will,  and  he  had  lain  ever  since  just  as  his 
bearers  had  deposited  him,  without  stirring, 
like  some  terrified  rabbit  fascinated  by  a  serp- 
ent. They  called  him  "Danny." 

A  cursory  examination   revealed  that  his 


70  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

legs  were  paralyzed  and  rigidly  fixed  in  a  bent 
position.  It  was  obvious  he  could  neither  walk 
nor  stand.  There  could  be  no  question  of  not 
accepting  him. 

"How  shall  we  get  him  ashore,  sir?"  the 
steward  asked. 

"We'll  carry  him,"  I  answered;  "he  can't 
be  but  a  featherweight." 

And  so  it  proved.  For  it  was  the  easiest  of 
tasks  even  to  descend  the  companion  ladder 
over  the  ship's  side  with  him  in  my  arms  rolled 
up  in  his  blanket  like  a  ball.  The  crowd  on 
the  ice  displayed  at  once  that  generous  sym- 
pathy which  characterizes  all  strong  men. 
These  fishermen  of  the  North  Atlantic  are 
nothing,  if  not  generous  and  brave  in  their 
strength.  Ready  arms  received  him.  Not  a 
coat  on  a  man's  back  but  would  instantly  have 
been  given,  if  needed,  to  make  easier  the 
passage  on  our  waiting  komatik  to  the  hos- 
pital. 

Even  as  we  called  the  dogs  to  stretch  out  for 
the  journey,  the  mail-boat  backed  slowly  from 
her  cutting  in  the  ice,  and  before  we  had 
climbed  the  bank  that  rises  to  the  hospital 
gate,  nothing  was  to  be  seen  of  her  but  a 
vague  black  cloud  over  the  hills  to  the  south 
of  us. 


DANNY'S  DELIVERANCE       71 

"Danny"  was  a  Christmas  present  for  which 
we  had  not  looked. 

If  the  experiences  of  the  mail-steamer  had 
been  new  to  "Danny,"  those  in  the  hospital 
were  a  revelation.  A  snow-white  bed,  a  snow- 
white  nightgown,  and  in  the  morning  a  large 
bath — these  were  only  a  few  of  the  many 
wonderful  new  things  that  served  to  fascinate 
the  little  patient.  They  were  just  as  strange 
to  him  as  we  were,  and  he  was  as  shy  of  them 
as  he  was  of  us.  It  was  only  a  very  rosy 
picture  indeed  of  the  chance  that  immersion 
in  hot  water  would  give  him  of  once  more 
becoming  "like  other  boys"  that  induced  him 
to  submit  unresistingly  to  this  strange  innova- 
tion. 

The  sequel  justified  it.  The  second  night, 
though  he  had  twenty  pounds  of  shot  fastened 
by  stirrups  to  both  legs,  he  slept  in  his  strange 
surroundings  soundly  and  happily.  His  cot 
was  placed  in  the  southeast  corner  of  the 
ward,  and  the  glorious  sunshine  both  from 
above  and  from  the  white  hillside  fell  full 
upon  him  all  the  day  long.  After  only  a  few 
days  it  became  a  sort  of  hospital  side-show  to 
go  upstairs  and  see  a  laughing  boy  trying  to 
drag  heavy  weights  on  his  legs  up  and  down 
over  pulleys.  It  was  "Danny"  endeavoring 


72  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

to  bring  back  strength  into  his  paralyzed 
limbs. 

At  first  massage,  and  still  more  the  electric 
battery,  evoked  frightened  floods  of  tears. 
Yet  after  a  day  or  two  the  boy  could  have  been 
seen  laughing  to  himself,  as  he  sat  pounding 
his  own  wasted  apologies  for  legs  with  one  of 
the  clever  hardwood  rolling  balls,  used  by  the 
Japanese  soldiers  for  hardening  the  muscles. 

Days  lengthened  into  weeks.  But  at  last  he 
greeted  me  one  morning  excitedly  with,  'The 
left  leg  is  quite  straight,  Doctor."  And  soon 
after,  "I  can  make  the  right  one  touch  the 
bed  as  I  lies  on  my  back  now." 

"Now  is  the  time  to  try  walking,  then,"  I 
told  him.  "It's  a  fortnight  since  we  first  got 
you  up  into  the  wheel-chair." 

Alas,  the  thighs  were  still  completely  power- 
less; the  knees  gave  way  at  once  and  Danny 
rolled  laughing  onto  the  floor.  Before  we 
could  venture  to  permit  him  to  try  his  crutches 
again,  we  must  by  means  of  keyed  splints  lock 
those  joints.  But  self-confidence  had  now 
given  way  to  timidity,  so  that  when  at  last  he 
was  balanced  on  the  crutches,  it  was  almost 
impossible  to  persuade  him  to  let  go  of  the 
bed-post.  It  took  two  of  us,  encouraging  and 


72 

supporting  him,  to  get  him  to  try  even  a  first 
step. 

At  last,  however,  he  got  about  quite  speedily 
by  himself,  and  "went  visiting,"  as  he  called 
it,  among  the  other  patients.  It  is  true  that 
his  thigh  muscles  were  still  powerless.  With- 
out the  help  of  his  splints  and  crutches  he 
could  still  do  nothing. 

So  more  than  once  a  sudden  crash  overhead 
has  brought  some  of  us  running  unstairs  to 
see  what  was  broken,  only  to  find  that  Danny, 
grown  over  confident,  had  been  careless  in 
placing  his  foot,  and  had  had  an  immediate 
and  ignominious  fall.  More  than  once  he  was 
lying  helpless  on  the  floor,  ruefully  recogniz- 
ing he  could  not  rise  again  by  himself,  but  he 
acquired  courage  and  wisdom  from  his  very 
troubles,  and  he  performed  prodigies  with  the 
little  strength  that  he  possessed. 

The  winter  has  passed  away.  The  migra- 
tory birds  have  already  returned.  A  schooner 
has  been  sighted  in  the  offing.  Two  polar 
bears  have  passed  north  across  our  harbor, 
returning,  as  they  always  do,  from  their  long 
hunt  on  the  icefloes  after  the  young  seals. 
Though  our  harbor  is  still  closed  with  heavy 
ice,  everything  is  indicating  that  in  reality 
winter  has  gone.  We  are  once  again  expect- 


74  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

ing  a  visit  from  our  little  mail  steamer,  and 
anxiously  awaiting  the  messages  and  many 
good  things  we  expect  her  to  bring.  The 
crowd  that  will  go  out  to  meet  her  when  next 
she  forces  her  way  into  the  ice,  are  already 
joyfully  anticipating  the  renewing  of  the  bonds 
that  bind  us  to  our  brethren  in  the  world  out- 
side. 

With  the  lapse  of  months,  and  with  careful, 
constant  effort,  Danny's  legs,  though  far  from 
being  what  they  were  intended  to  be,  have 
yet  grown  to  be  useful  limbs.  The  scanty 
clothing  that  came  with  him  is  all  long  since 
outgrown.  I  should  be  sorry  now  to  have  to 
carry  him  up  the  companion  ladder  in  my 
arms.  He  can  almost  walk  by  himself,  and 
we  anticipate  the  joy  of  seeing  the  boy  that 
came  under  our  influence  helpless,  able  to  take 
up  his  bed.  It  is  a  compensation  that  no  dol- 
lars can  buy  to  be  able  to  feel  that  in  some 
measure  we  have  been  permitted  to  assist  in 
this  wonderful  change. 

We  have  learned  more  than  one  lesson  from 
our  little  patient.  He  had  lain  at  home  many 
months  powerless,  refusing  to  venture  forth 
for  help,  and  every  day  losing  more  of  the 
capacity  for  ever  being  able  to  walk.  Though 
every  day  was  making  it  more  unlikely  that 


DANNY'S  DELIVERANCE       75 

he  would  ever  recover,  yet  it  was  only  at  length 
his  utter  misery  that  forced  him  to  a  decision 
that  he  would  accept  the  remedy.  It  involved 
the  effort  of  leaving  home ;  of  leaving  all  that 
he  had  ever  known  in  life,  and  of  venturing 
out  into  an  utterly  strange  place  among  abso- 
lute strangers.  Yet,  once  again,  when  the 
steamer  came  at  last,  and  the  moment  arrived 
for  setting  out,  faith  failed,  and  but  for  those 
who  loved  him  truly,  he  would  still  be  para- 
lyzed and  useless. 

But  with  the  effort  has  come  its  reward. 
Though  still  he  cannot  walk  without  outside 
help,  yet  when  he  falls  he  doesn't  remain  lying 
down  now.  He  knows  well  enough  that  the 
Doctor  will  not  say  angrily,  "Now  that  you've 
let  yourself  fall  down,  you  just  lie  where  you 
are ;  in  future  I'll  have  nothing  more  to  do  with 
you!"  On  the  contrary,  he  knows  that  we 
are  glad  to  see  him  trying.  Taking  warning 
from  the  fall,  he  gets  up  again,  like  the  "man 
after  God's  own  heart,"  and  tries  to  do  better 
another  time. 

Driving  last  month  along  a  frozen  river,  our 
path  took  us  through  thick  forests  of  spruce 
and  fir.  My  little  pet  spaniel,  joyful  in  the 
glorious  weather,  was  all  day  gleefully  jump- 
ing around  the  komatik.  Suddenly  I  heard 


76  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

his  loud  cry  of  pain,  evidently  from  the  woods 
on  the  right  of  us.  Hitching  the  dogs  to  a 
stump,  we  started  off  in  the  direction  of  the 
sound,  and  soon  found  the  dog.  He  had 
wandered  off  on  his  own  account,  leaving  the 
right  road  for  the  pleasure  of  hunting  rabbits. 
A  delicious  scent  issuing  from  a  cave  covered 
with  boughs  attracted  him  in.  Even  as  he 
crossed  the  doorway  there  was  a  loud  snap, 
and  he  was  fast  caught  in  the  cruel  teeth  of 
an  iron  trap.  It  was  a  lynx  house  of  a 
neighboring  trapper.  The  pain,  the  reward  of 
his  own  wrong  doing,  served  only  to  make 
him  wild  with  anger  and  fear.  Viciously  he 
drove  his  teeth  through  the  hand  of  my  good 
driver  who  had  arrived  before  me,  and  had 
good-naturedly  tried  to  relieve  him.  It  was 
the  hardest  thing  to  get  him  to  allow  us  to 
set  him  free  at  all,  and  when  at  last  he  was 
freed,  he  immediately  fled  and  disappeared 
from  sight. 

Following  his  track,  I  found  him  outside 
the  wood  on  the  ice.  I  called  him  to  come  that 
I  might  perhaps  bathe  the  leg  and  relieve  the 
suffering.  But  he  fled  from  me  as  he  had 
never  done  before.  Could  it  be  possible  that 
he  attributed  the  pain,  which  he  had  so  fool- 
ishly brought  on  himself,  to  us?  Truly  he  did. 


DANNY'S  DELIVERANCE       77 

He  misinterpreted  the  love  which  had  had  to 
hurt  him  in  trying  to  set  him  free,  and  acted 
as  if  he  thought  it  would  give  us  pleasure  to 
make  him  suffer  more.  Instead  of  coming  to 
us  he  fled  away.  For  many  days  he  wandered 
in  the  woods.  At  last,  when  almost  given  up 
as  lost,  emaciated  and  forlorn,  he  reached 
home  just  in  time  to  save  his  life. 

Are  these  not  parables  from  life?  What 
does  God  want  but  "willingness"  and  "trust." 
Willingness  to  put  ourselves  in  His  hands, 
then  He  will  make  us  "able  to  walk."  Absolute 
trust  in  all  His  dealings  with  us — then  He  can 
teach  us  to  interpret  even  apparent  adversity 
aright. 


IV. 

The  Optimist. 

IT  was  the  depth  of  winter.  Everywhere  all 
was  frozen,  and  the  snow  lay  deep  on  the 
ground.  I  was  fifteen  miles  from  our  little 
hospital  and  it  was  necessary  that  I  should 
be  back  before  night.  The  wards  were  so 
crowded  that  we  had  been  obliged  to  even  tres- 
pass on  the  nurse's  little  sitting-room  at  our 
diminutive  Orphanage  to  accommodate  two 
little  lads  with  tubercular  joints.  The  strength 
of  our  one  trained  nurse  was  taxed  to  the  ut- 
most: she  had  four  patients  recovering  from 
abdominal  operations,  one  young  fellow  with 
a  knee-joint  we  had  been  forced  to  open, 
and  enough  to  do  for  the  rest  to  keep  half-a- 
dozen  nurses  busy,  if  we  lived  in  civilized 
parts. 

I  had  left  the  hospital  that  morning  only  at 
the  very  earnest  request  of  a  deputation  from 
the  most  northern  harbor  in  the  country,  to 

78 


The  OPTIMIST  79 

see  a  woman  who  appeared  to  be  dying  of 
hemorrhage.  Before  starting  I  had  insisted  on 
a  promise  to  bring  me  back  the  same  evening 
with  a  dog  team,  for  my  own  dogs  were 
away  to  the  south  with  my  colleague. 

We  had  not  covered  half  the  distance  before 
I  realized  the  prospects  were  very  small  of  the 
poor  half-fed  beasts  that  were  hauling  me  be- 
ing able  to  cover  the  ground  again  that  day. 
They  were  doubly  handicapped  by  having  to 
haul  two  men  besides  myself,  for  the  nine  dogs 
belonged  to  different  owners,  and  they  would 
not  travel  without  the  guidance  of  the  particu- 
lar voices  they  knew  to  stimulate  them.  They 
had  a  good  six  hundred  pounds  to  haul  over 
hills  and  valleys  and  rivers  and  bays,  a  heavy 
burden  and  a  hard  road  at  the  best  of  times. 
And  the  dogs  were  enfeebled  by  poor  feed- 
ing, for  there  had  been  a  scarcity  of  offal, 
saved  from  the  fish,  and  caplin,  usually  pre- 
served for  dog  food.  Corn  meal,  too,  was  ex- 
pensive, and  even  at  best,  it  is  a  poor  substitute 
for  fats  and  meat  for  the  food  of  working 
dogs.  It  was  partly  an  errand  of  mercy. 

The  harbor  is  a  deep,  narrow  ravine  be- 
tween the  mainland  and  a  large  island,  from 
the  northern  point  of  which  the  towering  head- 
land projects  into  the  polar  current.  During 


8o  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

the  summer  a  furious  tide  rushes  through  this 
weird  cleft,  or  tickle,  in  the  cliffs,  and  in  spring 
and  fall  huge  pans  of  northern  floe  ice  are 
swept  to  and  fro  jostling  and  smashing  one 
another  against  the  unyielding  ice-worn  walls 
on  either  side.  The  shoal  ground  outside, 
where  the  fish  swarm,  causes  a  thundering 
surf,  ceaselessly  smashing  into  the  cliff  faces. 
The  whole  is  a  very  battle  of  Titans. 

The  land  around  has  long  since  been  de- 
nuded of  trees  and  bushes  for  firewood  for 
the  many  fishermen  who  frequent  the  harbor 
in  summer.  For  the  choice  of  a  home  by  a 
codfish  is  not  made  by  carpet-knight  stand- 
ards, nor  is  a  Newfoundland  fisherman,  seek- 
ing a  living,  to  be  deterred  by  trifles.  Many  a 
splendid  voyage  of  fish  has  been  killed  among 
these  jagged  rocks  and  dangerous  waters.  The 
harvest  of  the  sea  here,  as  elsewhere,  has  to 
be  wrested  from  a  reluctant  environment. 

Naked  and  forbidden  this  spot  is  in  the  sum- 
mer months;  but  in  winter  all  is  different. 
Ocean,  straits  and  tickle  are  alike  held  in  the 
resistless  grip  of  the  silvery  King  of  Winter. 
The  boiling  cleft  is  silent  as  death,  and  its 
broken  waters  are  a  fine  hard  road  for  our- 
selves and  our  carriages.  The  precipitous 
faces  of  the  cliffs  are  hung  with  the  most  ex- 


The  OPTIMIST  81 

quisite  ice  candles  forty  feet  in  length,  and  the 
enormous  banks  of  pure  white  snow  round  off 
all  such  inequalities  as  might  hurt  or  impede 
our  progress.  A  jump  in  the  dark  over  a 
thirty-foot  cliff  face  only  delays  us,  while  we 
extricate  ourselves  from  a  bed  of  fine  white 
feathers.  And  the  sun,  reflected  from  the  spot- 
less surface,  dazzles  us  like  the  face  of  another 
Moses,  and  demanded  snow-glasses  to  reduce  its 
radiance  to  the  level  of  the  average  human  eye. 
The  last  mile  called  for  little  energy  on 
the  part  of  our  steeds  as  far  as  hauling  went, 
the  road  trending  steadily  down  toward  the 
final  jump.  But  the  speed  gathered  by  the 
heavily  weighted  slide  took  sudi  breath  as  was 
left  out  of  the  best  of  them  as  they  endeavored 
to  escape  being  over-run.  The  poorer  dogs 
either  wisely  jumped  aside  and  slipped  their 
harness  as  quickly  as  they  could,  or,  submitting 
to  their  fate,  were  run  over  and  trailed  be- 
hind, till  slackening  speed  should  allow  them 
to  get  their  feet  again.  The  events  of  the 
sick-room  took  a  large  slice  out  of  a  short 
winter  day.  But  we  should  still  have  expected 
to  make  "across  t'  bay  'fore  dark"  with  our 
sorry  steeds.  But  we  had  not  counted  on  the 
impromptu  clinic  which  is  always  afforded  the 
doctor  on  his  rare  visits  in  these  parts  by  the 


82  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

sisters,  the  cousins,  the  aunts  and  uncles  of 
the  patient.  On  this  occasion  rather  a  larger 
crowd  than  usual  of  sorrowing  friends  had 
gathered.  There  seems  to  be  something 
specially  attractive  to  the  lay  mind  in  a  case 
attended  with  hemorrhage.  Here  as  they  sat 
talking  in  whispers  on  the  benches  placed 
against  the  walls  there  seemed  a  melancholy 
satisfaction  in  seeing  bowls  carried  to  and  fro, 
and  in  listening  to  the  tread  of  many  feet. 
Typhoid  and  tuberculosis  appear  to  offer  no 
such  charms. 

I  stood  between  a  night  out  with  the  dogs, 
and  one  with  a  restless,  uneasy  mind  in  my 
sleeping  bag  on  the  floor.  The  bag  is  an  old 
friend  and  a  good  one.  I  have  no  fault  to  find 
with  it.  But  the  need  for  my  presence  was 
over  and  my  mind  back  at  the  hospital.  If 
only  it  could  materialize  there,  or  find  a  tem- 
porary, effective  medium  for  communication  in 
the  dormant  unused  bodies  of  one  of  the  sleep- 
ing patients,  my  body  left  behind  would  not 
have  cared.  But  without  telephone  or  tele- 
graph I  felt  myself  badly  stranded. 

With  commendable  zeal,  however,  my 
drivers  planned  to  fulfill  their  share  of  the  con- 
tract. They  would  take  me  back  at  all  cost.  This 
meant,  however,  that  we  tramped  till  we  came 


The  OPTIMIST  83 

to  a  decline  where  we  sat  on  and  "randied." 
The  progress  was  slow,  as  there  was  much  sea 
ice  to  cross,  and  we  were  just  deciding  to 
abandon  the  march  when  a  man  hailed  us  from 
the  hillside,  and  came  running  out  over  the 
ice  to  intercept  us.  "It's  Ken,  Doctor,"  said 
one  of  my  companions.  "I  reckon  his  little 
chap  is  sick."  The  surmise  was  correct.  And 
a  contract  was  soon  arranged.  I  was  to  trans- 
fer, examine  and  treat  his  little  boy,  and  he 
was  to  harness  up  and  carry  me  on  to  the  hos- 
pital. My  own  share  of  this  compact  was 
soon  discharged,  though  it  involved  a  further 
re-examination  of  the  poor  man's  wife,  who 
lay  dying  of  consumption.  But,  alas,  his  dogs 
were  away  in  the  bay,  and  his  man  had  sent 
to  say  that  they  would  not  be  back  before 
nightfall. 

Suddenly,  in  our  dilemma,  our  thoughts 
flew  to  "Bill."  "Likely  Bill  will  take  you, 
Doctor.  I  seed  him  pass  down  t'  cove  an  hour 
ago."  And  without  further  comment  my  host 
disappeared  to  find  the  delinquent  Bill. 

On  the  very  top  of  the  divide  between  the 
village  that  nestled  under  the  shelter  of  the 
cliffs  and  the  western  branch  of  the  harbor, 
isolated  from  the  rest  of  the  villages,  is  a  rude 
shack.  By  courtesy  it  is  called  a  house.  It  is 


84  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

some  sixteen  feet  long  by  twelve  wide,  and  its 
single  story  is  less  than  six  feet  to  the  beams. 
Fortunately  there  is  no  ceiling  and  the  lofting 
of  the  rafters  adds  to  the  capacity  and  saves 
at  once  the  space  for  stairs  and  the  trouble  of 
climbing  them.  You  can  get  at  all  the  house- 
hold property  by  the  simple  process  of  rais- 
ing your  hand,  there  being  no  cupboard.  The 
dogs,  which  sleep  with  the  family,  are  thus 
freed  from  temptation  to  steal,  an  arrange- 
ment that  tends  generally  toward  domestic 
peace.  This  mansion  was  the  property  of  my 
deliverer,  and  as  it  was  "on  the  way,"  I  bade 
good-bye  to  my  patients,  and  followed  in  pur- 
suit of  "Bill." 

Bill  is  a  strange  figure  to  look  at,  limping 
on  the  left  leg,  and  with  the  corresponding 
hand  "scrammed"  or  partly  paralyzed.  He 
shuffles  along  as  if  he  had,  from  long  acquaint- 
ance, acquired  some  of  the  habits  and  char- 
acteristics of  the  familiar  crab.  An  attack  of 
"the  paralyze"  in  his  boyhood  had  left  him 
a  hard  struggle.  His  father  had  long  ago 
died.  There  remained  a  younger  brother,  an 
imbecile  sister,  and  a  mother  scarcely  better 
gifted.  Bill  has  never  married,  and  the 
brothers,  mother  and  imbecile  sister  live  to- 
gether in  their  poor  home. 


The  OPTIMIST  85 

Everything  on  this  coast  is  against  such  a 
man.  With  no  time  to  read,  or  write,  or  to 
devote  to  the  acquisition  of  that  knowledge 
which  would  enable  him  to  hold  his  own  in  a 
bargain,  and  without  the  remotest  idea  about 
the  great  world  outside,  his  lot  has  been  one 
of  uninterrupted  poverty  and  struggle.  He 
has  supported  the  family  year  in  and  year  out 
with  such  codfish  as  fastened  themselves  on  to 
the  end  of  his  line,  never  able  to  pay  others 
to  do  work  for  him,  handicapped  as  "the  para- 
lyze" left  him.  He  has  only  too  many  times 
known  hunger  and  want  and  cold.  His  face, 
though  he  is  still  a  young  man,  already 
shows  plainly  enough  the  marks  of  hard  ef- 
fort. 

It  might  be  supposed  that  such  would  be  the 
last  man  to  whom  one  would  appeal,  late  on 
a  winter  evening,  to  turn  out  and  carry  an 
unbidden  guest  a  long,  weary  distance  over 
frozen  hills. 

Yet  it  is  not  so,  there  is  no  one  along  these 
shores  so  much  imposed  upon  for  hauling 
priests,  parsons,  doctors,  and  strangers  gen- 
erally; no  one  that  carries  one  half  the  mes- 
sages along  the  coast  that  this  crippled  man 
does.  It  is  the  custom  of  the  coast  to  make 
no  charge  for  these  kindly  offices.  They  are 


86  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

done  freely  and  for  cause  or  not  at  all.  There 
are  those  with  whom  it  is  the  custom  to  make 
excuses.  But  Bill  is  not  of  that  kind.  No 
sight  is  more  familiar  along  the  winter  tracks 
than  his  rude  komatik,  and  diminutive  dog 
team  and  shuffling  figure. 

We  are  so  accustomed  in  civilization  to  look 
upon  every  act  performed  by  us  for  others 
as  purchasable,  that  one's  mind  at  once  con- 
cludes it  pays  him  well  somehow.  After  all 
that  is  a  correct  conclusion.  But  not  in  gold 
that  perishes.  For  it  is  the  one  joy  of  poor 
Bill's  life  to  render  services  to  others.  But 
the  sweetness  of  it  is  that  he  never  accepts  any 
return  from  any  human  beneficiary.  A  dollar 
is  not  less  than  a  dollar,  as  one  can  well  under- 
stand, to  a  man  in  Bill's  circumstances.  But 
large  as  a  dollar  must  loom  in  his  estimate  of 
the  value  of  material  things,  there  is  only  one 
opinion  among  all  who  know  this  man ;  he  puts 
a  value  beyond  money  on  the  opportunity  to 
render  a  service  which  goes  unrequited. 

The  familiar  words  of  the  fisherman  dis- 
ciples of  long  ago  are  never  read  in  my  hear- 
ing, but  my  thoughts  fly  to  this  humble  twent- 
ieth century  disciple,  "Silver  and  gold  have  I 
none,  but  such  as  I  have  I  give  in  the  name 
of  Jesus  of  Nazareth."  Bill's  theology  is  not 


The  OPTIMIST  87 

gathered  from  reading  or  even  hearing  the 
Scripture ;  yet  his  faith  is  great  enough  to  re- 
move many  mountains. 

"T  dogs  has  just  been  fed,  Doctor.  If  I'd 
only  ha'  knowd  this  'fore.  I  bet  they  wouldn't 
ha'  had  a  sup  this  night,"  for  dogs  cannot 
do  themselves  justice  running  on  a  full 
stomach,  and  that  they  had  been  fed  they 
clearly  testified  by  an  undoubted  bulge  on  that 
part  of  their  anatomy  which  is  devoted  to 
these  purposes.  "My,  Doctor,  'tis  too  bad. 
They'se  bein  in  the  bay  for  wood  all  day,  and 
them's  only  just  out."  If  Bill  starved  himself 
he  would  not  see  his  dogs  go  hungry.  Yet  I 
should  have  gathered  from  their  ribs  that  his 
idea  of  the  amount  of  food  necessary  is  based 
on  the  diet  he  himself  lives  on.  "It's  hard  t' 
keep  dogs  fat  when  them's  workin'  right 
'long." 

During  the  constant  succession  of  mild 
grumbles  in  the  same  strain,  he  was  jumping 
about  "getting  things  t'  rights,"  having  in- 
vited me,  meanwhile,  to  see  a  guest  in  his  house 
who  "had  taken  a  kink  in  his  back."  Knowing 
the  man,  I  was  not  at  all  surprised  to  find  a 
sick  visitor  living  on  him.  The  gaunt,  for- 
lorn, threadbare  stranger,  helping  to  fill  still 
further  the  already  inadequate  available  space, 


88  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

seemed  only  a  natural  circumstance.  For  of  all 
the  generous  people  in  the  world  commend  me 
to  the  poorest  poor. 

Many  a  times  has  the  story  of  the  widow's 
mite  carried  me  in  thought  back  to  these 
humblest  of  humble  cottages,  where  not  only 
have  I  myself  shared  the  hospitality  which 
keeps  a  few  ounces  of  "sugar"  and  the  single 
tin  of  milk — things  their  own  diet  seldom,  if 
ever,  aspires  to,  for  "any  one  special  who  may 
happen  along,"  but  also  many  times  have  I 
seen  the  still  more  Christlike  charity  which 
shares  its  poverty  freely  with  a  still  more  un- 
fortunate neighbor,  with  all  of  whose  faults 
and  foibles  they  are  familiar. 

Soon  the  team  was  harnessed  in,  and  the 
path  being  good  and  level,  I  acted  on  his  re- 
peated injunction  to  "bide  on,"  while  he  trot- 
ted on  beside,  his  good  hand  on  the  upturned 
nose  of  the  komatik. 

"Your  guest  is  in  a  poor  way,  Bill,"  I  sug- 
gested. "How  long  do  you  intend  to  keep 
him?"  "Well,  you  sees,  Doctor,"  he  answered, 
"he's  getting  old  now,  and  his  woman's  dead 
three  years."  "But  you  can't  afford  to  feed 
him,  Bill,  you  know  you  can't."  "Not  ex- 
actly, Doctor.  You  sees,  he's  a  bit  scrammed 
just  now,  and  he  can't  cut  up  his  firewood." 


The  OPTIMIST  89 

"I  think  he'd  best  let  me  get  him  to  the  poor- 
house,  Bill,  he  is  past  work  now."  "I  suppose 
he  must,  Doctor,"  he  answered,  a  tone  of  sor- 
row in  his  voice.  "I  sends  him  down  some 
dry  wood  on  times,  but  it  seems  he  can't  make 
a  do  of  it  of  late." 

We  were  crossing  a  large  arm  of  the  sea, 
and  the  salt  water  ice  being  a  bit  sticky  I  at- 
tempted to  get  off  and  walk.  We  had,  all-told, 
two  dogs,  two  pups,  and  one-half  pup,  a  little 
white  animal  with  beady  black  eyes  and  the 
most  willing  of  spirits,  which  reminded  me  all 
the  while  of  a  white  rabbit  in  a  hurry.  Only 
one  of  the  dogs  seemed  to  be  really  able  to 
haul  to  any  extent,  and  it  was  imposing  on 
good  nature  for  a  healthy,  heavy  Doctor  to  sit 
on  while  his  lame  driver  poured  perspiration 
as  he  limped  with  uncouth  gait.  "Here,"  I  said, 
"you  sit  on  a  bit,  Bill,  my  feet  are  cold  sitting 
on."  "They've  hauled  fifty  sticks  to  the  land- 
wash,  and  one  load  home  to-day,"  he  replied, 
as  if  apologizing  for  the  dogs.  "No,  sir,  I 
never  whips  them.  Come  Caesar,  Jumbo,  haul 
up."  And  he  trotted  along  faster  than  ever. 

The  dogs  responded  for  a  minute  and  even 
Jumbo,  which  proved  to  be  the  diminutive  white 
rabbit,  felt  for  a  while  he  was  doing  the  work 
of  a  traction  engine.  I  persuaded  Bill  at  last 


9o  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

to  "sit  on"  while  I  saved  my  toes  from  shar- 
ing the  fate  of  Captain  Peary's.  But  he  only 
consented  for  a  moment  while  he  took  off  his 
gloves  and  hat,  and  carefully  hung  them  on 
the  top  of  the  uprights,  thus  completing  his 
preparations  for  a  fresh  burst  of  energy. 
"Bide  on,  Doctor,  bide  on,  Doctor.  'Tain't 
my  fashion  to  give  a  man  a  lift  and  then  sit  on 
myself."  There  was  no  withstanding  the  re- 
peated appeal,  and  our  regal  procession  con- 
tinued thus  till  we  reached  the  steep  hillside 
across  the  bay. 

As  we  walked  slowly  up  the  hill  I  ventured 
to  suggest  he  spent  too  much  time  on  the  road 
doing  other  people's  work.  "No,  no,  Doctor," 
he  answered,  "  'tis  my  fashion.  I  fair  loves  to 
oblige  anyone,  especially  the  sick.  Leastways, 
I  nearly  lives  on  the  road."  "You  should  be 
paid  something,  Bill,  for  the  many  messages 
you  carry  to  and  fro.  It's  worth  a  dollar  a 
day  surely?"  "I  thinks  God  will  reward  me 
sometimes,  Doctor."  "You're  right  enough 
there,"  I  answered ;  "yours  might  be  called  the 
faith  that  saves." 

Immediately  he  changed  the  subject,  saying, 
"That's  as  good  a  leader,  Doctor,  as  there  is 
on  the  coast,  but  she  be  terrible  thin.  It's 
sick  she  is,  Doctor.  I  knows  she  is."  "Is  there 


The  OPTIMIST  91 

nothing  I  can  do  for  her?"  I  said.  I  often 
treat  dogs,  for  my  thoughts  flew  to  the  scaf- 
fold at  the  hospital  on  which  the  best  part  of 
a  ton  of  whale  meat  still  reposed,  for  the 
prominent  symptoms  of  this  disease  seemed 
manifest  even  at  the  distance  of  the  long  trace 
at  the  outer  end  of  which  she  labored  so  faith- 
fully. "There's  an  Indian  cure  for  it,  I  hears 
'em  say,"  he  answered.  "You  gives  um  nine 
buckshot  to  eat  on  a  Friday."  "Have  you  tried 
it  yet?"  "Why,  yes  Doctor,  I  gived  them  to 
her  just  before  we  left." 

We  were  now  racing  down  a  series  of  steep 
hillsides,  so  steep  that  in  spite  of  the  "drugs" 
or  drags,  it  took  all  our  attention  to  keep  from 
running  over  the  dogs.  Indeed,  a  little  later 
on  the  poor  white  rabbit  disappeared  with  a 
squeak  under  the  sledge  to  re-appear  as  a  fish 
on  the  end  of  a  line  hauled  along  by  the  neck 
till  his  trace  gave  way.  He  was  no  sooner 
loose,  however,  than  he  was  after  us  again  at 
his  full  speed,  merely  shaking  his  ruffled  white 
coat  as  he  came  along.  As  for  our  thin  leader, 
even  he  was  panting  heavily  at  the  last  decline, 
and  one  could  almost  hear  the  rattle  of  the 
Indian  cure  inside  her  as  she  swung  down  the 
hill  with  her  mouth  open. 

The  downhill  path  had  given  my  friend  a 


92  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

short  "spell"  on  the  sledge,  and  skilfully 
balancing  himself  I  noticed  he  had  spent  much 
time  searching  again  and  again  in  his  pockets. 
"It's  the  very  first  time  I  ever,"  he  said,  when 
at  last  he  spoke.  "Ever  what,"  I  asked.  "Why 
left  her  all  at  home.  Pipe  'n  'backer  'nd  lights 
and  all  the  whole  kit.  What  is  I  to  do  now  ?" 
At  first,  as  from  the  oysters  in  the  song  of  the 
Walrus  and  Carpenter,  "answer  came  there 
none."  But  then  the  bright  thought  of  the  co- 
operative store  a  mile  out  of  our  way  flashed 
into  my  mind.  "You  know  I've  got  to  call  at 
Ned  Spencer's  on  the  way,  I  suppose,"  I 
asked.  "Has  you?"  he  asked.  "Well,  it  will 
be  more  than  dark  before  we  gets  off  the  salt 
water  ice.  But  no  matter,  I  suppose." 

The  lights  of  the  store  were  greeting  us 
when  he  suddenly  extracted  from  the  depth 
of  some  inside  pocket  a  small  cube  the  size  of 
a  hazelnut.  Holding  it  up  high  for  me  to  see, 
before  he  put  the  whole  of  it  in  his  mouth,  he 
exclaimed  triumphantly,  "There,  I  knowed  I 
feeled  her  all  the  time."  It  was  the  last  of  a 
much  cherished  plug  of  tobacco.  "I  shall  leave 
you  here,  Bill,  and  then  you  can  get  back  in 
good  time  for  to-morrow  in  the  woods.  Ned's 
team  will  carry  me  the  rest  of  the  way." 

"I'll  finish  it  now,  Doctor,  if  you'se  is  agree- 


The  OPTIMIST  93 

able.  That  parcel  is  a  bit  o'  venison  Mrs.  Brai- 
ley  is  sending  up  to  her  daughter  at  Snag 
Cove,  and  I  promised  I'd  leave  un  for  her." 
Bill  had  a  way  of  speaking  of  these  matters  in 
a  tone  which  somehow  conveyed  the  idea  of 
finality,  and  one  felt  argument  with  a  pan  of 
ice  would  have  been  as  successful. 

Ned  happened  to  be  out  when  we  drew  up, 
but  I  purchased  the  necessary  fumigating  ap- 
paratus which  Bill  as  promptly  refused  to  ac- 
cept. An  excuse  was  necessary.  "But  I  did 
not  send  you  that  Christmas  present  I  promised 
two  years  ago,  Bill,"  I  said.  "It  will  be  a 
terrible  load  off  my  mind.  Besides,  I  like  the 
smell  of  Ned's  tobacco.  It  helps  the  Copper 
store  along."  "Well,  I  be  real  proud  to  have 
un,  and  I  gives  you  thanks." 

Bill  is  not  a  metaphysician  nor  is  his  mem- 
ory good.  Logic  is  not  his  strong  point,  and 
the  argument  appealed  to  his  weak  side,  and 
our  fisherfolk  aren't  yet  superhuman.  On  the 
contrary,  a  very  human  person  is  Bill,  though 
without  the  varnish  and  veneer  of  modern 
civilization,  the  kind  of  Christian  man  the 
Master  needs  in  the  Twentieth  century,  a  man 
of  few  words,  but  of  kind  deeds  many.  A 
man  always  at  peace  with  the  world  and  him- 
self, possessing  the  elixir  vitae  that  looks 


94  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

only  on  the  silver  lining  of  the  clouds,  a  verit- 
able optimist. 

I  happened  this  morning  to  cut  up  a  gaudily 
painted  pen-holder  that  was  lying  on  my  desk. 
Off  came  the  colored  shellac,  and  underneath 
stood  revealed  a  piece  of  our  own  common 
wood  from  the  forest.  It  seemed  finer  with 
its  gay  coat,  but  it  served  every  bit  as  useful 
a  purpose  bereft  of  the  frippery.  We  are  so 
apt  to  think  that  things  are  necessarily  better 
because  puny  man  has  added  conventional 
adornments  to  the  wonderful  productions  of 
the  Creator.  Could  we  but  have  eyes  capable 
of  seeing  as  with  a  microscope  the  ducts  and 
fibres  of  that  humble  piece  of  wood,  should 
we  have  thought  an  adventitious  covering  of 
paint  made  it  really  more  valuable,  gauged  by 
the  standards  of  either  its  usefulness  or  actual 
beauty?  Perhaps  this  is  the  case  with  our 
humble  friends  like  Bill.  He  is  best  as  he  is. 
The  veneer  of  civilization  could  not  improve 
him. 

When  we  finally  drew  up  opposite  the  door 
of  the  hospital,  I  told  him  to  go  down  and 
give  his  dogs  a  good  dose  of  whale  meat  off 
my  scaffold,  and  then  to  come  up  and  spend 
the  night  in  the  hospital.  Bill  shuffled  and 
stood  on  one  foot.  "I  thinks  I  won't  come 


The  OPTIMIST  95 

back.  I  give  you  thanks,  Doctor."  "Why 
not,"  I  replied.  "Surely  you  aren't  going  to 
try  and  go  back  to-night?"  "This  here/'  he 
said,  touching  a  parcel  in  some  sacking  firmly 
lashed  on  the  bars  and  on  which  I  had  been 
sitting,  "this  here  parcel  is  for  Goose  Cove, 
Doctor.  You  sees  'tis  only  eight  miles  now, 
and  I'se  can  be  back  easy  by  breakfast." 
"Why,  what  on  earth  have  you  got  there?" 
"  Tis  just  a  bit  of  mutton  what  old  Aunt 
Simmonds  asked  me  to  carry  up  to  Skipper 
Alfred.  He's  sick,  they  tells  me  in  the  cove." 
I  slammed  the  door  and  went  in  to  a  good 
tea,  feeling  very  small.  Bill's  case  is  incurable. 
He  is  an  optimist. 


V. 

The  Mate  of  the  Wildfiower. 

HARRY  LEE  was  six  and  twenty  and 
only  a  mate  still.  He  was  married, 
and  had  two  young  hostages  to  for- 
tune. It  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  were  six  and 
fifty,  for  there  was  not  another  man  in  the 
port  of  his  age  and  position  who  had  not  yet 
gone  master  of  his  own  craft.  In  reality,  he 
was  an  open-faced,  handsome  young  fisher- 
man, with  tan  enough  in  his  black  eyes  and 
hair  to  give  one  the  impression  of  a  touch  of 
Spanish  in  his  blood,  his  appearance  certainly 
suggesting  a  devil-may-care  spirit,  and  other 
folks  thought  that  it  was  this,  combined  with 
the  memories  of  some  of  the  mad-cap  pranks 
of  his  youth,  that  kept  the  owners  from  en- 
trusting their  property  into  his  hands. 

Harry  Lee  was  not  a  native  of  the  sea  port, 
but  his  taking  to  sea  had  been  like  that  of  a 
96 


The  MATE  97 

duck  to  water.  He  only  knew  of  his  parents 
that  they  had  "moved  to  London,"  where  he, 
for  one  of  his  wild  adventures,  had  been 
pounced  on  by  the  authorities,  sent  to  an  in- 
dustrial school  and  apprenticed  thence  to  the 
fisheries. 

Here  there  had  been  a  long-drawn  fight  be- 
tween the  group  of  boys  he  was  thrown 
among  and  a  sordid,  money-grubbing  master, 
who,  instead  of  giving  employment  as  captain 
to  those  boys  coming  out  of  their  indentures 
to  him,  succeeded  in  saving  wages  by  sending 
his  vessels  to  sea  with  even  "skippers"  who 
were  still  "serving  their  time." 

But  one  factor  which  strangely  enough  still 
further  militated  against  Harry  getting  a 
command  had  come  upon  him  without  his 
seeking.  One  time  while  home  he  had  been 
induced  by  some  of  his  more  serious  minded 
shipmates  to  join  them  at  an  evening  service  at 
their  small  house  near  the  pier  end,  which  they 
called  the  "Bethel."  There  and  then  that 
which  was  hardly  even  hoped  for  happened — 
the  man  who  had  been  so  strenuous  for  evil 
proved  to  have  a  warm  heart  underneath. 
Harry,  mad-cap  Harry,  decided  right  then  and 
there  to  serve  God.  So  sudden  a  change  in 
such  a  man  was  naturally  soon  noised  abroad. 


98  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

Indeed,  Harry  himself  had  no  desire  to  hide 
his  light  under  a  bushel.  Whatever  he  did,  he 
did  with  a  will,  and  let  any  one  who  liked  take 
exception  to  it. 

Now,  it  so  happened  that  a  fight  had  just 
begun  between  the  owners  and  their  crews, 
about  Sunday  fishing.  The  owners  argued 
that  as  the  vessels  were  on  the  fishing  grounds 
anyhow,  and  were  not  in  sight  of  land,  or  in 
reach  of  churches,  the  men  ought  to  work  their 
big  nets  on  Sunday,  just  as  they  did  every 
other  day  of  the  week.  They  said  the  men 
could  just  as  well  pray,  if  they  wanted  to,  while 
their  net  was  out ;  and  as  the  vessel  cost  money 
on  Sunday  as  well  as  Monday,  and  as  there 
were  many  stormy  days  when  men  must  lay  by 
anyhow,  any  man  who  refused  to  fish  on  Sun- 
day should  lose  his  charge  of  a  craft.  Some 
of  the  stouter  hearted  Christians  had  taken 
no  notice,  and  had,  on  coming  home  from  sea, 
been  greeted  with  a  curt  dismissal.  Lee's  po- 
sition in  this,  as  in  other  matters,  was  un- 
equivocal. He  would  not  work  on  Sunday, 
and  this,  together  with  his  well-known  uncom- 
promising spirit,  made  it  seem  even  less  likely 
that  he  would  ever  get  a  vessel  of  his  own  to 
command — for  he  certainly  would  not  accept 
one  on  those  terms. 


The  MATE  99 

His  little  wife,  however,  was  an  optimist, 
and  though  it  seemed  hard  that  her  husband 
should  have  just  as  much  to  do  with  the  mak- 
ing of  good  voyages,  and  just  as  much  work 
to  do  as  the  skipper,  and  yet  should  only  get 
half  the  poundage  money,  and  so  be  unable  to 
buy  his  boys  things  like  some  other  people's, 
yet  her  smile  was  unfailing,  and  she  argued 
it  would  all  come  right  some  day. 

And  come  right  it  had  too.  His  day  came  at 
last.  The  fleet  had  been  fishing  almost  on  the 
"Holland  coast"  early  in  their  voyage,  when 
the  skipper  of  the  Wildflower,  of  which  he 
was  mate,  met  with  an  accident,  breaking  his 
thigh,  and  having  to  be  sent  home  in  the  fish 
carrier  to  London.  The  vessels  were  doing 
well  at  this  time,  and  to  take  the  vessel  home, 
as  most  men  would,  and  break  the  voyage, 
would  mean  a  heavy  loss  to  the  owner.  So 
Harry,  in  his  capacity  of  mate,  called  the  boys 
together,  and  offered  to  take  command  of  the 
vessel  and  go  on  with  the  voyage.  They 
agreed;  at  least  until  their  owner  should  send 
them  their  recall.  There  was  a  mission  vessel 
in  the  fleet  at  the  time,  which  always  carried  a 
spare  hand,  who  could  be  lent  to  help  out  with 
a  vessel  that  was  short-handed  for  a  time,  and 
this  the  mission  boat  now  agreed  to  do  for  Lee. 


ioo  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

So  the  "fish-notes"  from  the  Wild  flower 
kept  coming  regularly  in  to  the  owners,  and 
not  for  weeks  did  they  learn  that  the  injured 
skipper  had  died  in  the  hospital,  and  that  the 
good  catches  the  Wildflower  was  making 
were  the  result  of  the  pluck  and  energy  of  the 
new  captain. 

So  word  went  out  to  stay  in  command  till 
the  vessel's  time  for  return  was  up,  and  a 
fresh  hand  was  sent  out  to  replace  the  second 
mate,  who  had  taken  Lee's  place  as  first. 

Sailors  are  apt  to  be  fatalists,  and  to  think 
little  of  death.  The  prevailing  idea  over  the 
whole  incident  in  the  new  skipper's  mind  was 
simply  that  God  had  so  ordained  it  that  this 
should  be  the  chance  of  his  life.  He  no  more 
questioned  that  it  was  the  good  hand  of  God 
upon  him  than  he  questioned  that  such  a  token 
of  love  called  specially  for  every  ounce  of 
energy  and  skill  he  could  put  into  it,  in  order 
that  he  might  prove  himself  worthy  of  the 
trust.  So  it  fell  out  that  however  hard  it 
blew,  when  other  men  shortened  canvas,  the 
Wild  flower  shook  out  her  topsails,  so  that 
she  might  drag  her  net  the  faster.  When  oth- 
ers "hove-to,"  fearing  to  risk  the  towing  of 
their  gear,  Harry  would  show  his  lights  for 


The  MATE  101 

"shooting  the  net,"  and  though  buried  in  seas, 
would  still  succeed  in  hauling  safely.  In  this 
way  he  was  able  to  have  catches  to  send  to 
empty  markets,  clamoring  for  fish.  Thus  the 
earnings  of  the  Wildfiower  stood  ahead  of 
the  rest  of  the  fleet. 

The  weeks  went  swiftly  by.  At  last  the 
eighth  week  end  marked  the  time  for  home. 
Provisions  were  short — for  the  crew  was  noth- 
ing if  not  hearty.  So  he  bade  the  Admiral  and 
skipper  good-bye  in  the  morning,  that  he  might 
be  ready  to  leave  with  the  first  fair  wind.  Even 
in  so  short  a  time  as  had  elapsed  he  had  made 
great  favor  with  the  men,  who  love  a  hard 
worker  and  admire  a  dash  of  daring  with  it. 
There  was  a  great  demonstration  of  rockets 
and  flags,  and  salvos  of  guns,  when  the  Wild- 
flower  put  her  helm  up  and  bore  away  for 
home. 

It  was  now  early  in  November,  and  the  long, 
dark  nights  made  it  dangerous  work  making 
the  east  coast  of  England  for  a  small  sailing 
vessel,  ten  times  more  so  than  weathering  the 
breezes  in  deep  water  with  plenty  of  sea  room. 
Two  long  stretches  of  sand  lie  off  for  many 
miles  parallel  with  the  land,  and  the  channels 
of  safety  between  them  are  hard  enough  to 


102  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

find  at  the  best  of  times,  being  but  poorly 
marked;  while  a  single  mistake  is  enough  to 
cost  all  hands  their  lives. 

To  make  matters  worse,  it  was  dense  with 
fog,  just  when  the  skipper  was  expecting  to 
pick  up  the  marked  buoys  on  the  outermost 
sands.  Together  with  the  fog  and  sea,  the 
barometer  still  held  threateningly  low.  By 
dead  reckoning  the  Wildftowcr  had  run  her 
distance  by  mid-day,  and  the  safety  and  com- 
fort of  home  was  only  now  some  forty  miles 
distant.  To  cap  it  all,  there  would  be  the 
credit  of  a  fine  finish  to  a  record  voyage,  if  he 
could  drive  her  right  in  before  the  storm 
broke. 

As  Harry  thought  of  what  that  would  mean 
to  his  "bit  of  frock,"  as  he  called  his  wife,  he 
felt  compelled  to  take  every  chance  and  "let 
her  rip."  It  was  the  mate's  opinion,  too,  that, 
though  they  had  not  seen  the  mark-boat,  it 
would  be  best  to  risk  it  and  go  ahead.  No 
sooner  said  than  done.  At  sea  the  man  who 
hesitates  is  lost.  The  born  sailor  acts  intu- 
itively while  the  land  lubber  is  philosophising. 
It  is,  however,  just  as  necessary  to  be  cautious 
at  times,  and  the  skipper  made  concessions  so 
far  as  to  now  and  again  head  the  weather  and 
take  a  sounding.  To  Harry  the  sand  that  came 


The  MATE  103 

up  on  the  lead,  "armed,"  as  we  call  it,  with  a 
lump  of  tallow  in  the  hollow  end,  spoke  almost 
as  plainly  as  so  many  sign  posts  to  a  driver 
on  the  land. 

By  sundown,  though  without  having  seen 
them,  they  could  tell  by  the  lead  that  they  were 
on  the  inside  of  the  outer  belt  of  sands.  Often 
near  the  land  the  sky  clears  up  so  as  to  render 
it  visible ;  but  this  time  it  deceived  them.  The 
heavy  wind  failed  to  dispel  the  darkness,  so 
that  nothing,  not  a  wink,  could  yet  be  seen  of 
the  land,  which  they  had  last  viewed  two 
months  before.  Unless  they  could  get  a 
glimpse  of  something,  they  would  be  obliged 
to  lay  out  the  gale  without  sea  room  and  in 
shoal  water.  They  were  now  hemmed  in  be- 
tween the  land  and  the  breakers,  running  at 
best  great  risk.  As  night  settled  in,  the  crew 
were  talking  in  low  whispers  of  the  folly  of 
not  having  kept  outside  the  sand,  and  the  skip- 
per himself  was  anxious  and  depressed.  At 
eight  bells  the  vessel  was  "hove  to"  to  await 
issues. 

Suddenly  there  came  as  a  flash  upon  Harry's 
mind  the  thought,  "Now  I  can  do  nothing  for 
myself,  and  surely  God  will  stand  by  me." 
This,  he  told  me  himself,  seemed  like  a  voice 
speaking  to  him,  so  that  he  felt  as  we  always 


io4  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

imagine  Paul  did,  when  "There  stood  by  me 
this  night,  One,  Whose  I  am  and  Whom  I 
serve."  Hurriedly  the  skipper  went  down  into 
the  cabin,  got  out  the  chart  and  fixed  it  on 
the  table,  just  exactly  as  if  he  could  already 
see  land.  He  "fixed"  the  small  swinging  lamp, 
and  laid  out  the  compass  and  dividers  before 
calling  out  to  the  mate  on  deck  to  take  an- 
other sounding. 

While  this  was  being  done,  he  flung  himself 
on  his  knees  on  the  cabin  floor,  and  asked 
"Him  Who  was  with  them  in  the  boat"  for 
just  one  sight  of  the  pier-head  light.  The 
whole  thing  took  but  a  minute,  and  then, 
climbing  the  gangway  ladder,  he  walked  to  the 
compass,  ready  to  take  a  bearing  of  the  light 
he  felt  certain  he  was  going  to  see. 

I  have  only  his  word  for  it,  but  it  happened 
exactly  as  he  expected.  Away  over  the  lee 
quarter  the  fog  suddenly  thinned  out,  a  patch 
of  clear  space  almost  the  size  of  a  man's  hand 
opened  up,  and  then  the  familiar  home  har- 
bor light  shone  out  clearly  and  brilliantly  for 
a  brief  moment.  Carefully  he  took  his  bear- 
ings, and  then — just  as  suddenly — the  fog 
shut  in  again,  and  the  darkness  reigned 
supreme. 

But  one  glimpse  of  the  home  harbor  light 


The  MATE  105 

was  enough  for  Lee  at  any  time,  and  in  an  in- 
stant the  foresail  sheet  was  loosed  and  the 
Wlldftower  was  paying  off  for  home. 

The  skipper  had  just  gone  below  to  lay  off 
the  course,  and  had  just  pencilled  the  line  he 
would  take,  when  the  mate  called  down  the 
companion,  and  in  a  voice  evidencing  no  little 
alarm,  shouted :  "Skipper,  there's  some  one 
calling;  I  heard  it  as  plain  as  I  heard  you  just 
now."  "Calling  out  here?  Nonsense,"  the 
captain  answered.  "Put  her  S.  W.  southerly 
for  twenty  minutes,  then  take  another  sound- 
ing." 

"Skipper,"  said  the  mate,  "it  was  a  voice 
I  heard.  I  swear  it,  so  help  me  God.  Come 
up  and  listen." 

The  mate  was  evidently  frightened.  So  the 
skipper  once  more  climbed  on  deck  to  satisfy 
him,  angry,  however,  that  a  single  moment 
should  be  lost  which  might  make  his  bearing 
of  the  light  less  valuable.  There  was  so  much 
noise  going  on  on  deck,  with  the  water  lash- 
ing the  sides  and  the  gale  shrieking  through 
the  cordage,  that  it  was  easy  enough  to  mis- 
take a  creaking  gooseneck,  or  a  speaking  block 
for  a  human  voice.  But  even  as  they  listened, 
faintly,  but  clearly  enough  to  ears  trained  as 
were  these  men's,  a  human  voice  came  out  of 


io6  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

the  raging  blackness  from  the  direction  of  the 
breakers  on  the  sands  outside  them. 

It  seemed  sheer  folly  to  try  and  do  anything. 
If  it  were  any  one  alive,  nothing  could  be  done 
till  morning  now,  and  no  one  could  live  out  a 
night  like  this  on  the  Scroby  sands  in  winter. 
Some  of  the  crew,  and  even  the  mate,  super- 
stitious, were  inclined  to  think  it  something 
supernatural ;  and  while  they  listened  and  won- 
dered, the  Wildftower  was  still  scudding  be- 
fore the  wind  on  her  new  course.  Home  lay 
but  half  an  hour  distant  now.  To  the  young 
skipper,  thinking  of  his  wife  and  bairns  wait- 
ing for  him,  it  meant  everything  to  make  the 
harbor  while  still  he  could. 

It  was  with  no  little  surprise,  therefore,  they 
suddenly  heard  him  shout  out  in  no  uncertain 
tones,  "All  hands  stand  by  to  'bout  ship."  With 
a  lurch  and  a  heavy  yaw,  and  not  without 
shipping  a  nasty  bulk  of  water,  the  staunch 
little  craft  once  more  came  head  to  sea.  "Fore- 
sail amidship,"  "lash  her  along,"  "hard  down 
with  the  helm,"  "every  man  below  but  the 
watch,"  were  the  skipper's  rapid  orders.  He 
was  determined  to  claw  as  carefully  to  wind- 
ward as  he  could,  without  inviting  destruction. 
"The  Lord  had  stood  by  me  that  night,"  he 


The  MATE  107 

told  us  afterwards,  "and  I  was  bound  to  stand 
by  Him  if  I  lost  the  ship  for  it." 

A  whole  hour  must  have  passed  before  the 
Wildflower  had  regained  the  ground  lost  in 
a  few  minutes.  To  the  skipper  taking  a  hun- 
dred chances  of  being  swept  overboard,  as  his 
little  vessel  worked  to  windward  in  that  sea, 
it  must  have  seemed  a  life-time.  But  he  got 
his  reward  at  last.  Once  more  the  weird  sound 
came  over  the  noise  of  the  waters,  and  less 
acute  ears  than  his  needed  no  confirmation  that 
it  was  the  wail  of  a  human  voice  that  was  call- 
ing for  help  from  the  sands. 

"Foresail  a-weather;  let  her  lie  dead,"  he 
shouted.  "Get  a  sounding  and  see  if  we  can 
get  near  enough  to  make  anything  out." 

"Ten  fathoms,"  was  the  answer.  "If  it's  a 
wreck  on  the  bank,  she  must  be  nearer  us  than 
that  would  make  the  bank.  We  must  head 
off  till  morning,  unless  the  fog  clears." 

It  was  a  cruel  night  for  the  little  vessel,  and 
of  incessant  watchfulness  for  her  crew,  as  they 
headed  on  and  off  the  bank  all  night  long,  try- 
ing to  keep  about  the  same  spot  by  watching 
the  soundings.  Several  times  during  the  night 
great  angry  combers  found  their  way  aboard, 
any  one  of  which,  had  they  been  able  to  hit  the 


io8  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

little  Wildflower  fair  and  squarely,  would 
have  sent  all  aboard  to  death  in  five  minutes. 

When  daylight  at  length  broke,  nothing  was 
to  be  seen  over  that  watery  waste,  nor,  peer 
into  that  exasperating  fog  as  they  might,  could 
they  see  a  thing;  while  the  voice  had  not  been 
heard  since  midnight. 

Precious  hours  of  daylight  once  more  were 
going  by,  and  even  the  skipper  began  to  think 
it  something  supernatural;  when  suddenly,  as 
the  Wildflower  ventured  once  more  as  for 
a  last  effort  nearer  to  the  edge  of  the  bank, 
there  seemed  to  spring  up  out  of  the  water, 
almost  alongside  of  the  vessel,  looming  enor- 
mous in  that  fog,  what  appeared  to  be  a  huge 
cross,  and  lashed  to  it  was  the  body  of  a  young 
man.  The  illusion  was  only  momentary.  The 
men  recognised  it  at  once  as  the  royal  mast 
and  yard  of  a  large  ship.  The  other  spars  had 
probably  been  washed  away.  There  was  no 
trace  of  anything  else  but  this  gigantic  cross. 
The  vision  closed  as  quickly  as  it  opened,  and 
already  again  there  was  nothing  but  dense  fog 
and  the  waste  of  raging  waters. 

And  now  a  still  greater  difficulty  presented 
itself.  How  in  such  a  sea-way  could  they 
ever  hope  to  save  this  man?  A  little  of  that 
manoeuvering,  that  it  takes  a  sailor  to  accom- 


The  MATE  109 

plish,  and  then  once  more  the  great  spar  came 
into  sight.  Carefully  working  to  windward, 
the  boat  was  thrown  over  the  side.  Three 
volunteers  at  once  jumped  into  her,  and 
dropped  her  slowly  down  towards  the  spar. 
The  man  had  evidently  observed  the  ma- 
noeuvre, for  he  had  changed  his  position  on 
the  cross,  and  had  begun  to  unwrap  the  lash- 
ings that  held  him.  But,  as  carried  on  a  big 
sea,  the  boat  drove  by,  it  became  quite  obvious 
that  by  no  possible  means  could  they  stop  to 
get  the  perishing  man  into  it.  With  the  intu- 
itive resourcefulness  of  sailors,  however,  they 
sang  out  to  him  as  they  drove  by :  "Drop  into 
the  water  as  we  pass  next  time.  Be  ready  to 
drop — to  drop." 

The  Wild/lower  had  now  paid  off  and  run 
to  leeward  of  the  boat,  where  she  now  lay 
waiting  to  pick  her  up.  For  Harry  had 
grasped  the  situation  and  was  ready  to  execute 
it  long  before  the  men  told  him  their  arrange- 
ments. After  slowly  beating  to  windward, 
towing  by  a  long  line  the  small  boat,  it  was 
once  more  allowed  to  drift  down  towards  the 
spar.  It  was  a  moment  of  intense  excitement 
to  all  who  were  actors  in  this  weird  drama. 
But — sure  enough — as  if  he  were  inspired  of 
God — the  poor  fellow  dropped  from  his  perch 


no  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

into  the  boiling  sea,  just  as  the  boat  ap- 
proached. There  was  just  one  chance  in  a 
thousand  for  his  life,  and  that  one  he  took. 
Surely  it  must  have  been  ordained  that  that 
life  should  be  saved,  for  even  as  he  sank  be- 
neath water  the  boat  flew  by  on  a  big  sea. 
Even  those  iron-nerved  men  held  their  breath 
— and  then  a  great  shout — for  the  iron  grip  of 
the  mate  had  grasped  him,  and  held  him  as  in 
a  vice.  One  heave  of  that  brawny  arm,  and 
a  lad  of  nineteen  lay  in  the  bottom  of  the 
Wild  flower's  boat,  itself  now  half  full  of 
water. 

While  the  little  Wild/lower  headed  for 
home,  those  mere  fishermen,  tender  as  women, 
nursed  back  to  life  before  the  cabin  fire,  with 
blankets,  massage,  and  warm  tea,  the  man  they 
had  saved.  Eagerly  they  chafed  his  limbs. 
Joyfully  they  saw  signs  of  life  returning. 
Even  before  the  pier  heads  were  turned,  they 
had  learned  it  was  a  large  barque  that  had 
driven  right  across  the  Scroby  sands,  beaten  in 
her  bottom,  and  sunk  in  deep  water.  All  hands 
had  perished,  as  the  other  spars  to  which  they 
were  clinging  had  one  by  one  "gone  by  board." 
This  poor  fellow  had  seen  nothing  of  the 
Wildflower  when  he  called.  He  had  just 
cried  out  in  his  agony,  and  it  had  "pleased  God 


The  MATE  in 

to  hear  him  and  deliver  him  out  of  his  dis- 
tress." 

When  Harry  Lee  was  asked  why  he  "hove- 
to"  all  that  dark,  dirty  night,  on  so  small  a 
chance,  he  replied :  "Hadn't  the  Lord  just 
showed  He  was  standing  by  me.  I  heard  Him 
plainly  say:  'Stand  by,  Harry;  stand  by.'  So 
I  just  stood  by." 

Harry  was  Admiral  of  the  fleet  when  last  I 
saw  his  cheery  face.  Many  a  "good  bag  of 
fish"  he  has  had  to  thank  the  Lord  for  since 
that  successful  voyage.  Many  a  stormy  sea 
has  he  been  brought  safely  through.  But  he 
tells  me  that  never  did  God  seem  so  near  to 
him — so  almost  visible — as  on  that  occasion. 

"I  suppose  it  was  just  when  the  opening  in 
the  fog  came.  He  seemed  nearest?"  I  said. 
"No,  Doctor;  no,  not  then.  It  was  while  we 
stood  there  'purring'  over  that  poor  lad  in  the 
cabin,  whose  life  we'd  saved.  To  think  that 
the  Lord  needs  a  man  like  me,  Doctor,  to  help 
Him  in  them  simple  ways,  too.  That  does 
make  the  Master  seem  very  near,  doesn't  it, 
now?" 

"You  are  right,  Harry,"  I  replied.  "To 
serve  one  another  is  the  road  that  always  leads 
us  closest  to  Him." 


VI. 

"Cui  Bono." 

IT  was  a  veritable  day  of  sick  calls. 
From  the  Straits  to  the  northwest  of  us 
two  calls  had  come;  from  the  bay  to  the 
south  two  calls  had  come;  from  the  extreme 
point  of  land  to  the  northeast,  close  to  where 
the  land's  end  projects  into  the  Atlantic,  two 
more  had  come.  My  colleague  had  left  only 
two  days  previously  for  the  west  coast,  and 
had  that  morning  managed  to  send  back  a  line 
to  me  saying  a  still  more  urgent  call  had 
switched  him  off  to  the  little  community  that 
gathered  round  our  lumber  mill,  where  he 
would  have  to  cross  the  country  over  some 
70  miles  of  uninhabited  wilderness  if  he  wished 
to  reach  his  original  destination  by  the  short- 
est route. 

The  climax  was  reached,  when,  just  as  I  had 
decided  which  route  to  start  on,  a  herder  was 
brought  in  from  our  deer  camp  with  a  bad 
112 


"GUI  BONO"  113 

axe  cut  in  his  foot.  It  so  happened  my  sec- 
ond team  of  dogs  was  also  away,  this  time 
with  two  men  specially  appointed  constables, 
for  we  keep  no  regulars  in  stock.  They  were 
seeking  a  couple  of  troublesome  fellows  whom 
we  wanted  for  trial  the  following  afternoon. 
Procurable  teams  are  as  scarce  here  at  this  sea- 
son of  the  year  as  vegetable  food  will  be  by 
the  end  of  March.  But,  as  Providence  would 
have  it,  just  as  I  got  through  the  essential  work 
at  hospital  next  morning,  a  good  friend  of 
mine  with  a  fine  smart  team  passed  near 
enough  to  be  commandeered,  and  an  hour  later 
we  were  whisking  off  to  the  northward  over 
a  good  hard  snow  trail.  Our  path  led  us  over 
high  barrens,  whence  as  we  swept  down 
through  a  notch  in  the  hills  the  still  standing 
foremast  of  an  old  wreck  caught  my  driver's 
eye,  and  he  suddenly  broke  the  silence.  "Is 
you'se  going  to  give  Harry  a  call,  Doctor?" 
It  was  a  reflex  from  the  stimulus  of  the  old 
wreck.  For  all  the  shore  knew  Harry  had 
speculated  in  her  and  hadn't  yet  in  two  years 
succeeded  in  tearing  a  single  plank  off  her  solis 
sida. 

"A  spell  would  do  the  dogs  good,"  I  re- 
plied. "I'm  for  going."  A  reply  our  know- 
ing little  leader  seemed  to  have  anticipated. 


ii4  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

for  she  needed  but  a  single  shout  of  "Kp  orf" 
— which  is  dog  lingo  for  "keep  off" — and  our 
komatik,  swinging  to  the  right,  was  flying 
down  the  decline,  and  a  moment  later  the  dogs 
brought  up  abruptly  at  Harry's  wood  pile. 
Every  dog  on  the  shore  knows  the  one  and 
only  place  dogs  go  to  in  this  village  while 
their  masters  halt  half  an  hour  for  some  mys- 
terious purpose.  So  accustomed  on  this  ac- 
count are  all  the  inhabitants  in  this  isolated 
village  to  seeing  visitors,  that  our  arrival 
aroused  no  interest.  Even  Harry's  own  dogs 
scarcely  troubled  to  get  up  and  enjoy  the  cus- 
tomary fight  with  strangers. 

As  we  sat  round  with  our  cups  of  tea  we 
ventured  on  the  usual  apology  for  billeting 
ourselves  freely  upon  our  friend.  For  the 
first  time  in  his  whole  life  he  was  hors  de  com- 
bat— stretched  out  on  the  humble  wood  settle 
with  that  trouble  of  so  many  sailor  men,  a 
"kink  in  the  back."  His  is  that  inimitable 
smile  that  never  comes  off.  But  this  time  it 
really  was  mixed  with  an  irrepressible  comical 
twinge,  as  now  and  again  the  enemy  in  the 
back  called  for  recognition.  "In  spite  of  the 
poor  fishery,  Harry,  I  see  the  old  mast  still 
points  to  your  free  hotel."  He  laughed  and 
said:  "Oh,  you'se  only  the  fourth  lot  to-day, 


"GUI  BONO"  115 

Doctor,  and  you're  more  than  welcome  this 
time.  I  didn't  like  to  trouble  you,  but  now  you 
is  here,  you  might  have  a  pill  or  a  plaster  of 
something  to  do  my  back  good."  "If  we  were 
only  the  fourth  to  visit  you  to-day,  how  many 
do  you  expect  to  make  tea  for  on  an  ordinary 
day?" 

"Well,"  said  his  wife  from  the  stove,  where 
she  was  putting  a  further  polish  on  the  already 
spotless  tea-pot,  "I  gets  fairly  tired  of  making 
tea  sometimes,  there's  enough  drunken  in  this 
house  to  float  that  old  schooner  long  ago.  I 
counted  forty-eight  that  came  one  day  to  us 
this  fall."  Her  remarks  seemed  greatly  to 
amuse  our  host.  "You  has  to  do  it  or  get  out," 
he  interrupted.  "You  can't  see  a  fellow  sitting 
looking  on  and  doing  nothing  like  an  owl  on 
hill  top.  I  minds  one  week  I  hauled  a  whole 
bag  o'  hard  bread  on  a  Monday.  It  ought  to 
have  lasted  us  three  months.  But  come  Sat- 
urday night  there  weren't  enough  left  for 
'brew's'  for  Sunday  morning  breakfast,  and 
that  was  beyond  all  the  loaf  the  old  woman 
could  bake  in  six  days.  It's  mighty  hard  to 
last  out  alongside  the  komatik  track." 

Time  only  permitted  altogether  a  few  min- 
utes delay,  and  while  the  dogs  were  being  re- 
harnessed,  I  hurried  down  to  see  one  or  two 


n6  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

sick  folks  in  the  little  cottages,  around  whose 
inmates  had  suddenly  taken  to  the  fortuitous 
presence  of  a  doctor.  The  sunshiny  optimism 
of  our  host,  however,  had  itself  been  well 
worth  the  doctor,  and  it  sent  us  on  our  way 
feeling  kinder  toward  the  world  in  general.  A 
few  more  miles  covered,  a  frozen  arm  of  the 
sea  crossed,  a  long  shoot  down  a  steep  hillside 
onto  a  pretty  harbor  under  steep  cliffs,  and 
the  loud  shouts  of  a  man  running  out  after  us 
over  the  moor,  indicated  the  direction  of  our 
first  patient's  house.  It  was  the  usual  poor 
house  of  a  young  man  with  a  large  family,  not 
yet  old  enough  to  help  him.  The  little  outer 
room  Jiterally  crowded  (as  is  the  custom  of 
the  countryside)  with  all  the  neighbors  sym- 
pathizing. 'Twas  scarcely  divided  from  the 
inside  room  by  a  crazy  single  board  partition. 
In  contrast  to  the  religious  silence  that  always 
reigns  outside  at  these  times  came  the  sudden 
sharp  cries  of  a  patient  delirious  from  brain 
trouble  due  to  tuberculosis. 

It  is  no  easy  matter  to  make  a  diagnosis  that 
satisfies  one's  own  mind  under  circumstances 
of  this  kind,  which  to  one  conscious  of  the  in- 
creasing exactness  rendered  possible  by  up-to- 
date  science,  distresses  one,  quite  as  much  as 
it  perplexes.  But  when  it  come  to  treatment, 


"GUI  BONO"  117 

and  one  felt  the  terrible  issues  at  stake,  for 
the  little  children  who  looked  for  food  to  this 
man  fighting  for  his  life,  one  felt  increasingly 
miserable.  The  poor  fellow  was  too  ill  to 
carry  to  hospital,  with  the  snow  and  ice  as 
rotten  as  it  is  now  becoming.  There  could  be 
no  nurse  or  skilled  assistant  to  carry  out  one's 
orders  here,  and  anyhow,  none  of  the  little 
requisites  for  such  a  case  was  procurable.  As 
I  return  to  my  dogs  and  sledge  to  run  away, 
as  it  were,  and  leave  this  weight  of  sorrow  be- 
hind me,  I  craved  eagerly  for  the  cause  of  the 
optimism  of  our  friend  of  the  morning,  rather 
than  for  the  forgetfulness  of  the  sorrows  of 
others  which  serves  to  solace  some  folk.  For 
that  cause  I  know  to  be  the  simple  natural 
trust  of  a  child  in  a  Father  above  who  loves 
him  and  over-rules  all  for  good. 

But  a  new  kind  of  sorrow  was  to  engage 
our  attention  next,  and  it  came  as  a  sharp  con- 
trast to  this,  for  it  was  all  of  man's  making. 
For  many  years  a  feud  had  existed  between 
two  of  the  larger  families  of  this  northern 
peninsula.  These  are  rare  troubles  in  this  cold 
climate.  But  here,  like  those  elsewhere,  once 
they  get  started,  they  do  not  fail  to  grow  till 
misunderstanding  led  to  misrepresentation, 
mistrust,  and  reprisal  had  been  met  by  reprisal, 


n8  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

and  now  two  actions  for  damages,  the  first  we 
knew  of  anywhere  around  here,  were  awaiting 
settlement. 

For  my  part,  it  had  been  with  great  reluc- 
tance I  had  ever  assumed  the  function  of 
judge  over  men.  But  if  might  is  not  to  mean 
right,  then  service  of  no  mean  importance  can 
be  rendered  at  times,  even  among  our  people, 
services  which  they  could  have  no  means  of 
obtaining  were  some  one  not  willing  to  volun- 
tarily fill  that  office.  We  are  far  too  scattered 
to  maintain  a  paid  judge  of  our  own,  and  too 
busy  to  quarrel,  or  even  worry  with  settling 
old  strifes  when  communication  is  open  in 
summer  and  when  it  would  be  possible  for  a 
judge  to  come  to  us.  It  was  too  late  to  begin 
a  trial  this  day,  so  gathering  all  hands  from 
far  and  near  we  tried  to  inculcate  with  the 
magic  lantern  that  we  had  carried  along  with 
us  some  sorely  needed  lessons  in  public  health, 
emphasized  by  just  such  sorrowful  instances 
as  that  in  the  house  we  had  last  visited. 

The  excitement  of  a  real  trial  is  here  suffi- 
ciently novel  as  yet  to  afford  trees  and  even 
traps  a  day's  rest,  if  news  is  carried  round  in 
time.  Our  evening's  assembly  coming  from 
every  direction  took  good  care  such  a  titbit  of 
news  should  not  be  allowed  to  escape  for  want 


"  GUI  BONO  "  119 

of  telling.  The  result  was  evident  when  next 
morning  in  the  school  house,  commandeered 
for  the  occasion,  I  found  myself  facing  prac- 
tically all  the  worthies  of  the  countryside,  ar- 
rayed in  their  Sunday  best,  filling  every  spare 
inch  of  space  in  our  impromptu  court  house. 

The  problems  were  none  of  them  easy  of 
solution  to  us.  Neither  plaintiff  nor  defendant 
having  had  any  previous  experience  of  this 
kind,  it  was  necessary  to  permit  several  infor- 
mal adjournments  of  each  case,  while  some 
important  but  forgotten  witness  was  sum- 
moned. While  our  special  constables  jour- 
neyed hither  and  thither  one  of  the  other 
cases  was  proceeded  with,  so  that  I  found 
afterwards  some  of  our  local  oracles  even 
had  got  mixed  up  as  to  which  case  was 
actually  being  tried.  We  are  not,  alas,  a 
studious  people,  and  as  the  process  of  cross- 
questioning  droned  on,  the  "public,"  accus- 
tomed to  come  rapidly  to  conclusions  by  in- 
tuitive processes,  began  to  show  the  usual  local 
signs  of  failing  interest.  I  was  forced  to  call 
the  attention  of  the  court  to  their  method  of 
betraying  this  fact,  and  that  just  over  their 
heads,  in  large,  plain  letters,  was  printed  the 
trite  aphorism,  "Don't  spit,"  because  the  rav- 
ages of  tuberculosis  on  even  so  healthy  a  coast 


120  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

as  this  are  very  considerable,  and  had  been 
only  too  vividly  impressed  upon  me  again  at 
the  bedside  of  the  friend  we  had  just  left.  So 
unconscious  do  the  offenders  become  of  their 
habit  of  spitting  that  I  have  been  forced  to 
arrest  and  prosecute  a  friend  for  spitting  in 
the  church  of  which  he  was  a  most  devoted 
adherent,  and  to  reprimand  a  visitor  who  had 
scarcely  finished  chiding  his  own  son  for  spit- 
ting, on  my  complaining  of  the  offense,  before 
in  his  own  excitement  he  was  himself  guilty 
of  the  same  act. 

To  maintain  the  interest  and  impress  on  as 
large  an  audience  as  possible  the  lessons  I 
hoped  the  cases  would  teach  them,  when  the 
hour  came  for  dinner  I  told  them  the  judg- 
ments in  all  the  cases  would  be  given  at  the 
end  of  the  proceeding  in  the  afternoon — like 
prizes  at  a  race  meeting — a  device  which  acted 
well,  for  I  found  every  man  had  his  mind  made 
up,  and  was  really  only  waiting  to  hear  the 
punishments  meted  out. 

At  length  when  everything  that  ought  to 
be  said,  or  could  be  said,  had  been  said  by 
everyone  that  could  contribute,  or  thought  he 
could  contribute,  to  make  things  either  clearer 
or  more  muddled,  we  summed  up  exactly  as  if 
making  a  diagnosis.  One  of  the  defendants, 


"GUI  BONO"  121 

a  local  trader,  and  another  local  trader's  wife, 
were  found  guilty  of  malicious  slander;  the 
third  defendant  won  his  case.  The  local  im- 
portance of  the  two  convicted,  and  the  long- 
deferred  end  of  this  unusual  occurrence,  had 
worked  up  an  excitement,  which  was  very  evi- 
dent as  I  scanned  the  faces  of  the  crowd.  It 
was  just  what  I  had  hoped  might  be  the  re- 
sult; or  if  our  people  are  not  interested,  it 
would  be  just  as  well  to  waste  wisdom  on  so 
many  codfish,  for  they  possess  an  unique  ca- 
pacity for  absenting  their  minds  when  their 
bodies  are  present,  almost  as  some  have  in 
church  when  "sitting  under"  a  sermon.  The 
law  regarding  the  fine  or  imprisonment  which 
the  magistrate  might  inflict  was  first  read — 
then  explained — then  re-read  and  re-explained, 
in  order  to  impress  on  all  present  the  serious 
view  the  law  of  man  takes  of  the  act  of  speak- 
ing evil.  The  Bible  view,  the  sin  of  the  thing 
as  among  God's  children,  was  then  pointed  out 
— a  view  on  which  our  people  lay  much  more 
stress  than  even  fear  of  man's  law  inspires — 
and  lastly,  the  crime  against  the  obligations 
which  had  been  solemnly  accepted  by  these 
two  men  as  brothers  in  the  same  lodge  of  a 
great  society  was  also  referred  to.  This,  judg- 
ing from  the  time  and  energy  devoted  to  it, 


122  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

only  ranks  second  in  importance  in  their  minds 
to  the  Mosaic  law.  To  the  court,  the  defend- 
ant and  plaintiff,  it  was  then  explained,  that 
the  judge  got  no  fees  for  his  work,  so  silver 
and  gold  had  not  induced  him  to  devote  so 
long  a  time  to  the  trial.  As  a  judge's  decision 
is  always  without  exception  torn  to  pieces  by 
local  wiseacres,  it  could  not  be  a  desire  for 
popularity  either  that  actuated  him.  It  was 
reasonable  to  suppose,  therefore,  it  was  under- 
taken with  a  desire  to  do  some  good. 

My  nearest  colleague  on  the  bench  is  a 
schoolmaster,  living  some  sixty  miles  away, 
and  it  was  explained  quite  clearly  that  he  might 
look  on  the  law  as  a  retributive  agent  to  meta- 
phorically flog  evildoers,  while  a  doctor  must 
be  pardoned  for  regarding  it  as  a  remedial 
agent  and  intended  to  cure  the  wrong  it  is 
applied  to.  It  was  then  suggested  to  the  crowd 
that  each  one  should  for  one  minute  consider 
what  would  be  his  own  verdict  if  it  were  in- 
tended to  prove  a  benefit  for  the  community. 

It  was  pointed  out  that  the  best  result  that 
could  accrue  from  this  trial  would  obviously 
be  a  lasting  friendship  between  the  hostile  fam- 
ilies, so  that  once  more  people  who  worshipped 
side  by  side  might  say  the  Lord's  Prayer  with 
somewhat  less  compunction.  The  plaintiff,  it 


"GUI  BONO"  123 

was  said,  had  expressed  his  sentiments  by  say- 
ing that  the  best  day  in  his  life  would  be  if  he 
could  see  the  defendant  fined  fifty  dollars, 
while  the  court  was  very  well  aware  that  such 
a  fine  would  be  a  very  serious  matter  to  the 
defendant's  family.  Nor  would  the  law  be  jus- 
tifying its  existence  and  evincing  its  prestige 
by  making  the  quarrel  ten  times  greater  and  in 
addition  injuring  innocent  persons.  Could  the 
seizing  of  fifty  paltry  dollars  be  a  testimonial 
to  the  law's  efficiency  as  a  remedial  agent  ?  In 
the  second  case  it  was  practically  a  family  af- 
fair, and  in  this  small  isolated  community  even 
brothers  and  sisters  were  letting  years  of  life 
slip  by  without  so  much  as  speaking  to  one 
another.  What  satisfaction  would  it  be  if  the 
result  of  the  work  done  was  to  make  this 
quarrel  still  more  bitter,  and  probably,  seeing 
the  age  of  the  parties,  effectually  prevent  any 
possibility  of  reconciliation  during  the  remain- 
der of  their  stay  on  earth? 

The  plaintiff  was  asked  if  he  would  be  satis- 
fied with  a  frank  and  free  apology  made  before 
the  assembled  court  and  a  promise  in  each  case 
that  henceforth  they  would  all  endeavor  to  live 
as  those  who  call  God  their  Father  ought  to 
do — in  peace  and  harmony.  He  was  told  it 
was  probably  the  one  chance  of  his  life  to 


124  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

show  that  there  dwelt  in  his  own  heart,  any- 
how, the  spirit,  which  in  his  case  he  com- 
plained so  bitterly  had  not  been  exhibited 
towards  himself.  The  excitement  of  the  court 
rose  to  fever  pitch,  as  the  plaintiff,  under  con- 
siderable excitement,  now  took  council  of  the 
judge.  When  at  length  he  suddenly  rose, 
walked  across  the  floor  and  shook  hands  with 
his  enemy,  the  court  couldn't  longer  contain 
its  feelings.  In  spite  of  the  vigorous  suppres- 
sion of  all  conversation  or  comment  during  the 
trial,  a  very  new  experience  to  most  of  these 
men,  every  one  burst  into  loud  applause,  and 
in  less  than  two  minutes  the  majority  of  my 
audience  were  lighting  innumerable  pipes  out- 
side in  the  dusk  with  their  heads  all  in  a 
bunch. 

I  have  never  found  it  easy  to  speak  harshly 
to  a  woman.  But  the  second  defendant  needed 
it,  and  I  did  my  best.  She  is  a  really  kind- 
hearted  woman  and  already  gray-haired — but 
with  the  unfortunate  affliction  of  a  tongue  that 
is  too  long.  The  circumstances  under  which 
advice  is  given  has  a  good  deal  to  do  with  its 
effectiveness,  and  the  psychical  effect  of  the 
presence  of  all  one's  neighbors  in  one  large 
crowd  is  not  to  be  overlooked.  It  was  some 
little  trouble  to  collect  my  court  again.  But 


"GUI  BONO"  125 

our  cool  atmosphere  outside  came  to  my  assis- 
tance, and  it  was  easy  to  tell  their  presence, 
and  it  helped  in  no  small  degree  to  carry  home 
the  lesson.  The  troublesome  symptoms  of  long 
tongues  were  referred  to,  the  danger  to  a  com- 
munity of  that  trouble  getting  into  it  was  em- 
phasized. The  expense  to  purse  and  person- 
ality of  long  tongues  was  not  merely  stated, 
but  reiterated.  The  plaintiff  this  time  only 
refused  to  be  the  first  to  cross  the  floor.  This 
caused  some  little  trouble,  for  the  old  lady,  in 
her  sudden  contrition,  forgot  she  had  to  get 
pardon,  and  commenced  by  freely  forgiving  the 
plaintiff.  However,  after  a  fresh  start  mat- 
ters were  satisfactorily  adjusted,  and  for  the 
first  time  in  many  years  these  two  relatives 
and  neighbors  went  home  together.  Part  of 
the  sentence  was  that  they  were  to  have  tea 
together  in  the  plaintiff's  house  the  next  night, 
but  as  I  had  to  leave  for  my  distant  little  hos- 
pital by  daylight,  I  was  not  able  to  be  a  guest 
at  this  feast. 

It  was  a  chill  and  bitter  morning  and  dawn 
was  only  just  breaking  as  I  once  more  drove 
off  to  the  forlorn  little  house  of  the  sick  man 
I  had  been  called  to.  On  my  arrival,  I  guessed 
that  matters  were  no  better.  It  didn't  take 
long  to  convince  me  that  the  victory  here  lay 


126  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

with  the  enemy,  and  that  the  end  was  not  far 
off.  The  poor  wife  and  children  couldn't  fully 
realize  yet  all  that  this  would  mean  to  them 
down  here.  It  would  mean,  at  any  rate,  all 
that  the  most  irreparable  loss  could  mean  to 
mortals  anywhere.  As  I  drove  over  the  high 
barrens  behind  the  swinging  team  of  dogs, 
the  exhilarating  stimulus  of  the  exquisite 
air  made  one  feel  what  a  glorious  thing  life 
is.  It  made  it  seem  doubly  sad  that  this  father 
of  a  young  family  should  be  called  thus  sud- 
denly to  leave  it  in  the  prime  of  life.  And  yet, 
the  very  beauty  of  life  made  it  sure  that  God 
on  high  ruled  wisely.  It  was  good  to  think 
that  at  least  death's  real  sting,  which  I  still  be- 
lieve to  be  conscious  wrong  doing,  was  absent 
from  this  case.  Meanwhile  the  very  pathos  of 
the  thing  made  the  other  cases  seem  doubly 
piteous.  Here  we  are  allowed  at  best  but  a 
brief  sojourn  on  earth — the  making  that  stay 
hideous  by  acts  of  our  own  folly  has  nothing 
whatever  to  plead  for  itself.  I  was  returning 
with  the  consciousness  of  failure  in  the  first 
case.  It  was  a  little  comfort  to  be  able  to  hope 
that  a  lesson  had  been  taught  in  the  second 
that  through  "only  the  law"  might  possibly 
prove  a  real  measure  of  grace  in  some  one's 
life. 


VII. 

Queer  Problems  for  a  Missionary. 

MY  little  hospital  steamer,  the  Strath- 
cona,   was   pouring  out   a  cloud   of 
black  smoke  as  she  still  lay  at  anchor 
off  the  Fur  Trading  Company's  post  in  North 
Labrador — she  was  getting  steam  to  carry  us 
once  more  down  the  bay,  not  to  come  north 
again    till   the    long   months    of    winter   had 
rolled  away,  and  the  ice,  which  was  already 
strong  on  the  fresh  water  ponds,  should  have 
yielded  to  the  June  sun. 

The  agent,  who  had  recently  come  to  the 
post,  was  watching  the  weighing-in  and  call- 
ing of  a  boat-load  of  salmon  that  a  belated 
dealer  had  brought  in  over  night. 

"Morning,"  he  shouted  cheerily,  as  I  tied  up 
the  dingey  and  started  up  the  ladder,  "You 
aren't  going  to  leave  us  yet,  are  you?"  he 
asked,  looking  at  the  smoke  issuing  in  a 
steady  stream  from  our  funnel. 
127 


128  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

"It  looks  like  it,"  I  answered.  "Why  do 
you  ask?  Is  there  anything  more  I  can  do  for 
you?"  "Well,  I  can't  break  a  limb  to  have 
an  excuse  for  keeping  a  sawbones  around,"  he 
laughed,  "and  I  haven't  any  more  appendices 
to  offer,  but  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about 
Tommy  Mitchell  and  his  family." 

"If  you'll  come  along  and  give  that  poor 
fellow  a  chance  to  get  one  salmon  through  as 
'No.  i,'  I'll  be  all  ears."  He  laughed  good- 
humoredly,  and  we  started  arm  in  arm  to 
walk  up  and  down  the  big  raised  wood  plat- 
form. 

"Full  speed  ahead,  old  friend — I'll  have  to 
make  tracks  when  the  whistle  goes — you 
know  we've  no  fuel  to  throw  away."  "It's  this 
way,  Doctor,  Old  Tom  has  been  at  the  post 
every  Saturday  now  for  two  months.  He's 
dead  broke.  I've  allowed  him  twenty  pounds 
of  dry  flour  a  week  for  himself  and  his  five 
children.  He  hasn't  a  salmon  or  a  codfish  to 
turn  in,  and  he  owed  more  than  he  can  ever 
pay  when  I  came  here.  My  wife  was  down  to 
see  the  family  last  week,  and  I'm  bothered  if 
Mrs.  Tom  hadn't  flown  in  the  face  of  Provi- 
dence with  a  sixth  baby.  A  woman  can't  nurse 
babies  on  dry  flour,  and  Tom  hasn't  a  farm  at 
his  disposal.  We  offered  to  take  the  baby 


QUEER  PROBLEMS 

and  nurse  it  here  for  her  for  a  couple  of 
months,  but  she  wouldn't  part  with  it,  and 
there  isn't  tinned  milk  here  for  her  to  feed  it 
with." 

Just  at  that  moment  a  jet  of  steam  shot  up 
from  the  Strathcona,  and  almost  immediate- 
ly her  shrill  whistle,  echoing  and  re-echoing 
from  the  cliffs,  warned  us  to  come  to  the  point. 
"What  can  I  do  to  help  out?"  I  asked.  "Why, 
call  in  and  see  them  on  your  way,  can't  you?" 
"Where  are  they  now?"  "Somewhere  on  the 
island  off  Napaktok  Point."  "Have  they  a 
house  there?"  "No,  nor  a  tent  either — they 
are  camping  under  their  own  hats,  if  they  have 
any,  it  seems." 

"Well,  good-bye  till  we  meet  again — thanks 
for  Tom's  address.  The  island  is  a  large  one, 
but  we'll  try  and  find  him  and  send  you  word 
what  we  do.  There's  the  whistle  again — I 
shall  be  in  trouble — good-bye  again."  "Good- 
bye," he  shouted,  and  the  kindly  little  agent 
started  off  to  haul  down  the  famous  "Pro  Pelle 
Cutem"  flag  to  salute  our  departure.  After 
only  an  hour's  steaming  we  were  opposite  the 
north  end  of  Tom's  island,  so  I  gave  the  en- 
gine room  "stand  by,"  and,  telling  my  skipper 
to  "heave  to,"  and  keep  a  good  offing  till  I 
returned,  we  lowered  away  our  dory,  and  with 


130  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

"Bill,"  my  stalwart  mate,  I  rowed  in  to  the 
land. 

"Do  you  see  anything  like  a  house  any- 
where, Bill?  Your  eyes  are  better  than  mine, 
I  know."  "No,  sir,  I  sees  nothing,"  Bill  said. 
"I  didn't  expect  you  to  do  as  well  as  that. 
However,  let  me  know  when  you  see  something 
like  a  house.  I  want  to  find  the  residence  of 
Thomas  Mitchell  and  his  family." 

We  started  to  row  almost  round  the  island — 
for  there  was  a  stiff  head  wind,  and  dories  are 
light  on  the  water.  Cove  after  cove  went  by 
— headland  succeeded  headland — and  only  the 
certainty:  "Well,  it  must  really  be  round  the 
next  corner,"  kept  us  toiling  at  it. 

"There's  a  smoke,  sir,"  said  Bill  at  last,  star- 
ing into  a  rather  larger  cove  than  usual. 
"Come  on,  Bill.  If  you  can  see  nothing,  I 
can't — where  is  it?" 

Bill  was  right,  however — there  was  a  feeble 
smoke  fighting  its  way  up  the  side  of  a  preci- 
pice face,  but  no  sign  of  any  residence  could 
we  see. 

However,  we  landed,  hauled  up  our  boat, 
and  went  on  a  voyage  of  discovery,  till  at  last 
we  ran  down  a  little  fire-place  in  the  open, 
by  which  sat  a  gaunt  woman  with  a  wizened 
baby  on  one  arm,  and  stirring  a  sorry  looking 


QUEER  PROBLEMS  131 

gruel  in  what  appeared  to  be  an  old  paint  can 
with  the  other  hand.  "Good  morning.  Where's 
the  tent?"  I  asked.  "There  she  is,"  replied 
the  woman,  pointing  with  the  gruel  stick  to  a 
sorry  roofing  of  matting  and  patches  of  can- 
vas, which  was  stretched  over  some  well-trod- 
den mud  against  the  cliff  face.  "Why  do  you 
cook  in  the  open?"  "  'Cos  we  hasn't  got  no 
stove."  "Where's  Tom?"  "He's  away  wid 
Johnnie  trying  to  shoot  a  gull — here,  Bill, 
run  and  fetch  yer  dad,  and  tell  him  Doctor 
wants  'un" — whereupon  a  half-naked  urchin 
of  about  nine  years  promptly  disappeared  into 
the  bushes.  "What's  the  matter  with  the 
baby?"  I  asked.  "Hungry,"  she  replied.  "I 
hasn't  no  milk  to  give  him."  She  proceeded 
to  show  me  the  baby,  which  kept  whimpering 
continually,  like  a  little  lamb  bleating.  "It's 
half-starved,"  I  said.  "What  do  you  give  it?" 
"Flour  and  berries,"  was  her  answer.  "I 
chews  the  loaf  first,  or  it  ain't  no  good  for 
him" — thus  showing  she  had  discovered  a 
physiological  truth. 

A  little  girl  of  about  five  and  a  boy  of  seven 
now  emerged  from  behind  the  tent,  where 
they  had  fled  upon  our  arrival.  Both  were, 
to  all  intents  and  purposes  stark  naked,  and 
yet  as  brown  and  fat  as  Rubens'  cherubs.  It 


i32  DOWN,  to  The  SEA 

was  snowing  a  little,  and  the  cold  had  over- 
come their  shyness  and  driven  them  to  seek 
the  warmth  of  the  fire.  "I'm  glad  to  see  the 
other  children  are  fat,"  I  said.  "They  bees 
eatin'  berries  all  the  time,"  she  replied. 
"What's  t'  good  of  t'  gover'ment,"  she  sud- 
denly demanded.  "Here  is  we  all's  starvin', 
and  it's  ne'er  a  crust  they  gives  yer — there 
bees  a  sight  o'  pork  and  butter  in  t'  company's 
store — but  it's  ne'er  a  sight  of  'im  us  ever  gets 
— what  are  them  doin'?  T'  agent,  he  says 
he  can't  give  Tom  no  mor'n  dry  flour — and 
folks  can't  live  on  dat."  I  was  beginning  to 
unfold  to  her  the  functions  of  a  government, 
when  a  shuffling  figure,  with  a  very  old,  rusty, 
single-barrel,  muzzle-loading  gun,  followed  by 
two  boys,  appeared  on  the  scene.  He  was 
somewhat  shame-faced,  I  thought,  carrying  a 
dead  sea-gull  by  one  wing. 

"You've  had  some  luck,  Tom,"  I  remarked, 
inwardly  referring  to  the  fact  that  he  had 
safely  discharged  the  antique  weapon  without 
doing  destruction  at  the  wrong  end.  "It's 
only  a  kitty,"  he  replied,  "and  I've  been  a-sit- 
tin'  out  on  t'  point  all  day."  A  "kitty"  is  only 
a  small  gull,  and  Tom's  tone  of  contempt  was 
actuated  entirely  by  the  size  of  the  victim. 
tTom's  standard  of  values  was  graded  solely 


QUEER  PROBLEMS  133 

by  bulk,  and  involved  no  reflection  whatever 
on  the  variegated  assortment  of  flavors  that 
these  scavengers  succeed  in  combining  in  one 
carcase. 

"The  gun  isn't  heavy  enough  to  kill  the  big 
gulls,  I  suppose."  "I  hasn't  much  powder,"  he 
replied,  "and  ne'er  a  bit  o'  shot.  I  mostly  puts 
a  handful  o'  they  round  stones  in  her — t'  ham- 
mer don't  always  set  her  off,  neither.  Her 
springs  bees  too  old,  I  reckon,"  he  said,  play- 
ing with  that  extremely  loosely  attached  ap- 
pendage in  a  way  that  made  me  ask  him  to  let 
me  hold  the  weapon  for  a  minute  while  I 
looked  at  it.  Needless  to  say,  I  took  good  care 
to  keep  it  in  my  hands  till  our  business  was 
through. 

The  truth  is,  Tom  was  reared  on  a  truck  sys- 
tem of  trade,  and  had  been  all  his  life  a  depen- 
dent of  others.  He  had  never  had  the  incen- 
tive to  really  look  out  for  himself,  for  he  had 
never  been  able  to  get  clear  of  debt.  This,  and 
his  Eskimo  blood,  left  him  bereft  of  all  jnitia- 
tive,  and  so  incapable,  except  when  under  or- 
ders from  others,  of  earning  a  livelihood. 

"Tom,"  I  said,  "I  want  to  help  you — winter 
is  coming  on,  and  you  have  nothing  whatever 
to  face  it  with.  The  only  thing  I  can  think 
of  is  for  you  to  let  me  take  charge  of  your  two 


134  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

little  boys,  'Billy'  and  'Jimmy,'  and  the  little 
girl.  I'll  feed  them  and  clothe  them,  and  send 
them  to  school  till  they  can  come  back  and  help 
you  along — and  so  long  as  they  are  with  me 
I'll  do  my  best  to  help  you  along  also.  They 
will  certainly  starve  here  during  the  winter — 
the  snow  is  covering  up  the  berries  already, 
and  you  have  nothing  else."  But  poor  Tom 
made  no  answer.  He  simply  stood,  his  mouth 
wide  open,  and  stared  into  space.  "T'  Doctor 
wants  to  take  t'  children,"  broke  in  the  sharp- 
tongued  wife.  "Don't  youse  hear  what  un 
says?  T'is  the  gover'ment  that  ought  to  feed 
'em  here,  I  says.  I  wouldn't  let  no  children  o' 
mine  go,  I  wouldn't" — and  she  cuddled  the 
wizened  babe  up  closer,  as  if  I  had  been  about 
to  pounce  on  that  bag  of  bones  and  fly  off  with 
it  like  an  eagle. 

It  took  quite  a  long  while  to  convince  her 
that  what  a  government  "ought  to  do"  would 
not  feed  six  children — especially  as  that  gov- 
ernment was  so  far  away  that  we  couldn't  ex- 
pect an  answer  before  Christmas  if  we  wrote 
to  them.  As  for  Tom,  the  intricacies  of  the 
problem  had  entirely  failed  to  penetrate  his 
dullard  cranium,  and  yet,  perplexed  as  he 
was,  he  showed  the  great  wisdom  of  saying 
nothing. 


QUEER  PROBLEMS  135 

"Why  doesn't  youse  say  something?"  his 
irate  spouse  at  last  insisted.  "Bees  you  a-goin' 
to  let  t'  Doctor  have  youse  childer?"  But 
Tom  only  looked  more  and  more  puzzled,  and 
merely  reflected  by  taking  off  his  hat  and 
scratching  his  head. 

Matters  seemed  to  have  come  to  a  deadlock, 
when  Tom,  with  a  burst  of  eloquence  suddenly 
ejaculated,  "I  suppose  he  knows."  Backed  by 
this  moral  support,  I  again  advanced  to  the 
attack,  and  at  length  succeeded  in  extracting 
from  Mrs.  Tom :  "Well,  youse  can  take  Billy, 
I  suppose,  if  you  wants  un." 

During  this  prolonged  debate  my  excellent 
mate  had  not  ventured  on  a  single  word, 
though  he  was,  in  spite  of  his  athletic  dimen- 
sions, a  most  tender  hearted  father  of  many 
children.  At  this  juncture,  however,  he  cast 
propriety  to  the  winds,  and  butted  full  into  the 
debate  by  simply  seizing  the  struggling  Billy 
and  putting  him,  kicking,  under  one  arm,  for 
he  had  in  his  mind  the  cheerful  little  Children's 
Home  we  had  built  near  our  southern  hospi- 
tal, and  was  familiar  with  the  wonderful  trans- 
formations that  had  been  enacted  there  in  other 
children  that  had  been  entrusted  to  us.  But 
I  had  yet  a  hope  of  saving  more  of  the  chil- 
dren, and  profiting  by  the  evident  resentment 


136  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

of  Billy  to  be  isolated  from  those  he  was  fa- 
miliar with,  I  pressed  home  on  the  mother  how 
terribly  lonely  one  child  alone  would  be.  I 
soon  perceived  that  my  logic  was  having  its 
effect  on  her  defenses,  and  with  fresh  vigor 
proceeded  to  show  her  the  advisability  of  send- 
ing a  bunch  together  for  company's  sake.  But 
I  seemed  somehow  to  make  no  headway  till 
Tom,  whose  eyes  had  been  glued  to  his  strug- 
gling offspring,  once  more  came  to  my  rescue 
with  his  philosophy. 

What  it  was  impressed  him  so  strongly,  I 
can't  yet  say,  but  he  broke  in  most  oppor- 
tunely once  more  with  his  "I  says  he  knows 
what's  for  t'  best,"  and  then  as  promptly  re- 
lapsed into  the  impregnable  position  of  a  deaf 
mute.  I  had  already  occupied  much  time — the 
snowstorm  was  all  the  while  growing  heavier, 
and  white  horses  were  capping  the  sea,  to 
match  the  fast  growing  whiteness  of  the  land. 
The  "Strathcona,"  which  had  followed  us 
round  the  island,  was  evidently  very  uneasy, 
and  already  had  blown  her  whistle  several 
times  to  hurry  us  up.  A  final  promise  of  a 
better  gun  for  Tom,  with  a  stock  of  powder 
and  shot,  of  some  spare  old  clothes  for  all  the 
rest  of  the  family,  and  of  a  note  to  the  agent 
to  give  work,  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst, 


induced  Mrs.  Tom  to  consent  at  last  to  my 
having  "Jimmy"  as  well  as  "Billy." 

The  subtlest  argument  I  could  advance 
seemed  to  make  no  impression  on  the  enemy. 
I  compared  the  tent  with  our  fine  house — I 
pointed  to  the  mere  semblance  of  a  boat  that 
was  all  they  had  to  convey  their  family  over  a 
hundred  miles  in  up  to  their  winter  station. 
I  spoke  of  fine  clothes,  the  schooling,  etc.,  that 
we  would  give  the  baby  girl  if  only  she  was 
allowed  to  come  with  us,  and  did  my  best  to 
save  her  from  the  seeming  starvation  ahead 
of  her.  But  all  my  blandishments  fell  on  deaf 
ears — nothing  I  could  say  would  tempt  Tom 
to  emerge  again  from  his  impenetrable  silence, 
and  I  had  at  length  to  acknowledge  discomfit- 
ure. My  faithful  mate,  Bill,  however,  who 
had  halted  half  way  to  the  beach  with  his  first 
prize,  had  no  intention  of  risking  the  acquisi- 
tion of  a  second,  and  long  before  I  was 
through  with  the  arrangements  he  was  climb- 
ing into  our  dory  with  Billy  under  one  arm  and 
Jimmy  under  the  other,  their  protesting  lower 
extremities  that  stuck  out  behind  notwith- 
standing. 

We  did  not,  however,  fail  to  make  good  the 
rest  of  our  bargain.  The  entire  remnant  of 
the  family  were  conducted  on  board  the 


138  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

"Strathcona".  They  were  fitted  out  with  suit- 
able clothing  from  the  stock  sent  me  by 
friends,  and  part  of  which  is  always  in  the 
strong  box  on  the  mission  steamer's  deck ;  be- 
sides which,  some  of  my  generous  seamen  con- 
tributed from  their  kits.  A  gun  was  loaned  to 
Tom — his  own  old  relic  was  overhauled  and 
repaired  by  our  engineer,  to  be  given  to  John, 
the  eldest  boy,  who  was  big  enough  to  help 
with  the  hunt.  Powder  and  shot  were  pro- 
duced, tins  of  condensed  milk  were  extracted 
from  the  ship's  stock  for  the  baby,  our  second 
axe  was  donated  to  their  impoverished  equip- 
ment, and  indeed,  a  heterogeneous  collection, 
which  included  some  needles  and  thread,  soap, 
and  other  trifles  in  a  couple  of  oil  bags  that 
had  been  sent  us  for  sailors'  use,  all  found  their 
way  into  the  Mitchell  family's  dilapidated 
houseboat.  Before  they  left  the  paternal 
mate  had  Billy  and  Jimmy  on  shore  in  so  well 
advanced  a  state  of  scrubbing  and  hair  cutting, 
that  Tom  and  his  wife  would  have  less  diffi- 
culty in  recognizing  them  when  they  shall  re- 
turn in  the  days  to  come.  For  this  last  im- 
pression of  them,  scrubbed  and  in  clean  clothes, 
formed  a  very  marked  contrast  with  that  which 
they  presented  in  their  rags  on  the  island. 
The  boys  soon  got  over  a  very,  very  short 


QUEER  PROBLEMS  139 

attack  of  homesickness,  and  neither  of  them 
was  in  the  least  affected  by  the  tossing  and 
the  tumble  of  the  sea. 

Already  Jimmy  and  Billy  are  numbered 
among  the  best  scholars  we  have  in  our  home. 
They  are  bright,  affectionate,  laughing  boys — 
Billy  a  veritable  Saxon,  with  his  light  hair 
and  blue  eyes.  Jimmy  takes  after  his  mother, 
having  the  black  hair  and  deep  brown  eyes  of 
his  Eskimo  extraction.  As  they  rush  down  to 
greet  us  now,  and  "purr"  out  their  affection 
like  pleased  kittens,  we  shudder  to  think  of 
what  might  have  happened  if  we  hadn't  "hap- 
pened along"  at  the  beginning  of  the  winter. 

But,  after  all,  do  things  just  happen  by 
chance  ?  Or  does  the  love  of  our  Father  above 
us  watch  over  the  least  of  these  little  ones; 
and  is  it  to  His  love  we  owe  these  unequaled 
opportunities  of  tasting  the  real  joys  of  life. 
Christ  the  Master  said  of  all  such,  "Let  the 
little  ones  come  unto  me" — and  it  is  one  of  the 
profoundest  joys  of  those  who  believe  that  in 
their  own  lives  can  live  again  the  spirit  of  the 
Master,  who  was  the  word  or  message  of 
God's  love  to  his  children,  to  believe  also  that 
He  considers  love  shown  to  the  least  of  these, 
His  little  ones,  as  really  shown  to  Himself. 
Faith  that  man  really  has  opportunity  to 


140  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

achieve  things  for  God  is  the  real  incentive 
that  the  twentieth  century  world  needs  to  at- 
tract every  man  into  His  service — that  is,  to 
follow  him. 


VIII. 
"Every  Little  Helps." 

WE  had  been  invited  to  dine  in  one 
of  the  best  houses  in  the  city  just 
before  leaving  once  again  for  our 
northern  district.  Winter  was  already  as  far  ad- 
vanced as  we  dare  let  it  be  before  sailing.  Even 
now  the  time  had  already  passed  when  it  had 
been  last  year  any  longer  possible  for  the 
plucky  little  mail  boat  to  force  her  way  as  far 
as  our  northern  port,  owing  to  the  rapidly 
forming  ice,  and  it  was  only  the  telegraphic 
advice  from  Newfoundland  of  the  exception- 
ally mild  fall  that  permitted  us  to  linger  so 
late. 

Naturally  our  thoughts  were  much  on  the 
conditions  that  awaited  us,  and  while  the  su- 
perb ornate  furnishings  pleased  the  eye,  and 
course  following  course  of  the  menu  furnished 
the  most  subtle  and  inviting  satisfaction  to  the 


1 42  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

palate,  and  the  cultured  conversation  was  of 
those  at  whose  feet  one  might  at  any  time  be 
glad  to  sit  and  listen,  still  none  of  these  fur- 
nished bonds  strong  enough  to  check  our 
minds  from  roaming  to  far  different  scenes, 
where  homes  are  furnished  only  with  things 
essential,  where  the  most  important  question 
concerning  food  is,  can  sufficient  be  obtained 
to  nourish,  and  where  culture  necessarily  is 
that  of  a  life  schooled  close  to  nature,  and  talk 
is  limited  by  the  simple  mental  evolution  ren- 
dered possible  by  a  life  in  the  woods  and  on 
the  sea,  with  often  no  opportunity  of  acquir- 
ing the  three  "R's." 

Our  distinguished  host  happened  to  be  an 
authority  on  scientific  dietetics,  and  conversa- 
tion having  turned  to  an  attempt  we  are  mak- 
ing to  secure  a  milk  supply  by  importing  and 
herding  Lapland  reindeer,  the  methods  of  ster- 
ilizing and  preserving  milk  for  children  was 
discussed.  Our  host  spoke  in  the  very  highest 
terms  of  the  great  success  of  the  method 
known  as  the  "Hatmaker  process,"  of  which 
we  had  no  practical  experience.  The  most 
eloquent  tribute  he  paid  it,  however,  was  next 
day  when  I  found  in  my  office  a  large  box 
bearing  the  appropriate  title  of  "Mammala," 
and  containing  many  tins  of  the  dried  and  ster- 


EVERY  LITTLE  HELPS       143 

ilized  milk,  which  had  been  sent  as  a  gift  by 
him  towards  our  baby-food  problem. 

We  had  reached  our  destination  some  time. 
It  was  now  in  the  very  depths  of  winter,  snow 
lay  six  feet  on  the  ground,  and  with  us  days 
are  short  and  nights  long.  Owing  to  driving 
snow,  it  had  been  gloomy  outside  all  day.  I 
had  been  on  a  long  round  of  visits  among  our 
people,  and  had  just  got  home.  Indeed,  I  could 
still  hear  the  angry  conversation  of  my  sledge 
dogs,  who  were  having  difficulties  over  the 
seal  carcass  that  had  been  thrown  into  their 
pen  for  supper,  like  the  modern  Daniel  into  a 
den  of  lions. 

Personally,  I  hate  to  confess  to  being  tired, 
even  to  myself.  But  after  a  winter's  journey 
here,  even  if  it  is  only  of  one  day's  duration, 
a  log  fire  on  an  open  hearth,  and  a  comfortable 
pair  of  shoes,  have,  I  admit,  begun  to  have  at- 
tractions peculiarly  their  own,  especially  to- 
night with  the  contrast  outside. 

There  were  still  the  day's  medicines  to  make 
up  and  the  "little  things"  accumulated  during 
the  day  to  see  to,  and  the  hospital  rounds  to 
make,  as  my  colleague  had  been  away  some 
three  weeks  with  his  dogs;  so  I  did  not  posi- 
tively welcome  the  information  that  a  man 
from  a  village  to  the  north  of  us  was  waiting 


144  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

to  see  me.  Here,  however,  is  just  where  to-day 
real  Christ-following  finds  its  test  and  its  tri- 
umphs. I  did  my  best  to  at  least  look  as  if  I 
were  glad  to  see  him.  He  was  an  old  friend, 
of  our  sturdiest  and  best  type.  He  still  had 
keen  eyes,  under  shaggy  eyebrows,  long  since 
adapted  in  their  color  to  this  northern  environ- 
ment, while  his  plentiful  crop  of  crisp  curly 
hair  would  hardly  any  longer  pass  for  a  "silver 
gray";  the  color  of  all  others  our  trappers  are 
glad  to  see  when  a  fox  is  snared  in  their  traps. 
"Uncle  Ephriam!  Well,  whatever  is  it  brings 
you  out  here  to-night?"  "To  see  you,  Doctor," 
he  replied.  "To  tell  the  truth,  me  and  the  old 
woman's  in  trouble."  "No  sickness,  I  hope — * 
well,  isn't  she?"  "Yes,  Mary  is  well,  Doctor, 
and  yet — no  she  isn't.  'Deed  I  can't  hardly; 
tell  you,  Doctor,  for  I  don't  know  how  to  say 
it.  But,  Doctor,  Mary  will  be  a  mother  this 
week — and  us  knowed  nothing  about  it." 

A  week  or  more  later  a  pale,  forlorn-looking 
girl  followed  Uncle  Ephriam  into  my  study. 
"I've  brought  her  over  to  see  you  herself,  Doc- 
tor; I  didn't  know  no  other  way,"  he  said,  and 
there  was  an  inexpressible  sadness  in  his  voice. 
There  is  no  need  to  narrate  this  interview.  It 
was  the  old,  old  story,  where  duty  to  self  and 
to  loved  ones,  and  to  God  is  forgotten  in  the 


EVERY  LITTLE  HELPS       145 

yielding  to  one  great  passion.  It  was  only  the 
same  tragedy  that  the  moth  at  evening  enacts 
around  the  open  light.  Everything  is  forgot- 
ten or  unheeded  till  suddenly  the  singed  wings 
no  longer  support  the  weight  they  have  carried. 
The  hollow  sham  of  it  all  is  of  a  sudden  hide- 
ously revealed,  and  downfall  and  disaster  faces 
us,  and  that,  alas,  before  the  steps  of  folly  can 
be  retraced. 

The  baby  was  not  wanted.  Poor  little  mite, 
it  was  just  a  speck  of  wailing  humanity,  and 
"Aunt  Eliza,  and  all  who'd  seed  it,  said  it 
couldn't  live  anyhow."  But  though  natural  in- 
stincts may  not  always  insure  proper  care  be- 
ing taken  of  helpless  infants,  our  law  is  still 
sufficiently  potent  to  provide  for  that  emer- 
gency. The  father  was  traced  and  summoned. 
His  whole  visible  punishment  being  to  have  to 
find  the  pittance  the  law  considers  essential  for 
maintaining  the  life  of  the  child.  The  poor 
baby  was  still,  however,  not  wanted.  It  thus 
became  one  function  of  the  court  to  suitably 
dispose  of  it.  It  seemed  an  odd  perquisite  for 
an  amateur  judge  to  be  called  on  to  adminis- 
ter such  a  property.  Of  older  children,  found 
derelict,  I  had  annexed  already  quite  a  number, 
but  what  could  I  do  with  this  helpless  burden? 
Volunteers,  however,  were  found  in  a  young 


i46  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

couple  who  were  qualified  by  the  position  they 
had  obtained  through  successful  fishing,  and 
who,  being  themselves  childless,  were  moved 
to  desire  in  their  home  the  child,  life  that  God, 
in  his  good  Providence,  had  till  now  withheld 
from  them.  So  the  problem  seemed  solved, 
and  there  was  every  likelihood  of  our  settling 
down  into  the  usual  routine  of  work  again. 

Christmas  trees  on  our  coast  don't  always 
bear  their  fruits  by  Christmas  Day.  For 
though  Santa  Claus  is  presumably  a  past  mas- 
ter in  ice  and  snow  problems,  there  are  diffi- 
culties connected  with  winter  travel  on  this 
coast  that  we  find  every  winter  makes  him 
late  at  some  of  the  smaller  villages.  Thus  it 
happened  just  a  week  later  that  this  welcome 
stranger  whose  visits  were  angelic,  as  well  in 
their  rarity  as  in  the  joy  they  bring,  came  to 
Uncle  Ephriam's  village.  It  also  happened 
that  I  was  called  to  meet  him  there  once  more. 
As  we  finished  dressing  the  tree,  and  were 
looking  round  for  a  free  hotel  for  supper  be- 
fore the  children  came,  I  noticed  a  man  wait- 
ing patiently  outside  the  door. 

"Good  evening,  Doctor." 

"Good  evening,  friend.  Where  do  you  come 
from?" 

"You  knows  me,  Doctor.     It  is  Andrew. 


EFERY  LITTLE  HELPS       147 

Jess  wants  you  to  come  and  see  your  baby. 
It's  going  to  die,  I'm  a- feared,  after  all." 

"Why,  Andrew,  I  didn't  know  you  in  the 
dark.  I'll  come  right  over  now,  and  Jessie 
shall  get  me  a  cup  o'  tea." 

"That's  right,  Doctor,  she'll  be  ever  so  glad 
to  see  you." 

It  is  only  a  little  cottage,  but  ever  so  neat 
and  tidy.  When  I  entered  a  bright  fire  was 
burning  in  the  grate,  and  a  steaming  kettle 
singing  its  joyful  anthem  in  defiance  of  the 
cold  outside  in  general,  and  of  Santa  Claus  in 
particular.  He,  for  private  reasons,  was  sol- 
emnly endeavoring  to  hide  a  large  bag  of 
duck's  feathers  under  the  somewhat  dilap- 
idated old  hospital  dressing  gown,  which  al- 
lowed room  even  for  his  broad  shoulders,  but 
clearly  called  elsewhere  for  more  rotundity 
than  his  anatomy  was  designed  to  supply. 

"What  is  the  trouble  with  the  baby,  Jessie? 
I  heard  you  thought  the  world  of  it.  Surely 
you  can't  be  wanting  me  to  tell  you  which  is 
the  right  end  of  it?"  "The  baby  is  all  right,  I 
thinks,  Doctor,  but  we  has  no  cow,  and  nothing 
to  give  it — except  pork  and  molasses  and  loaf, 
and  that  don't  seem  to  suit  it."  "Well,  that's 
odd.  I'm  quite  sure  Arctic  babies  could  have 
insides  made  specially  for  the  country,  if  you 


i48  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

had  the  planning  of  them,  Jessie.  It  does  seem 
a  shame  they  can't  live  on  ice  and  snow,  when 
there's  such  a  terrible  lot  of  it  around." 
"Uncle  Ephriam  sends  us  round  a  drop  of 
milk  for  the  evening,  but  he  hain't  got  none 
worth  while,  and  you  knows  there's  none  to  be 
got  here."  While  she  talked  she  had  lifted  the 
child  out  of  the  clever  little  cradle,  made  out 
of  half  a  flour  barrel  sawed  lengthwise,  which 
stood  on  rockers,  cleverly  made  out  of  the 
heads,  near  the  fire,  and  which  looked  more 
homely  and  comfortable  than  many  a  more  or- 
nate one  I've  seen  in  palaces  elsewhere. 

There  was  a  sense  of  comfort  sitting  by  that 
tidy  fireplace  added  to  by  Andrew,  who  was 
laying  the  table  for  his  wife.  And  the  jingle 
of  the  tea  things  and  the  warmth  of  the  fire 
made  one  "kind  of  drowsy."  Yet  the  sense  of 
human  kinship  so  strongly  stirred  one's  mind 
to  think  what  I  should  feel  if  I  were  in  their 
great  dilemma  that  it  caused  a  sense  of  sad- 
ness to  pervade  the  little  home,  which  even  the 
now  rotund  and  resplendent  Santa  Claus  sit- 
ting in  the  settle  opposite  us  failed  to  banish. 
No,  Drummond  is  right;  struggle  for  the  life 
of  others  is  a  passion  more  deeply  rooted  in 
the  human  heart  than  that  for  our  own  exis- 
tence. 


EVERY  LITTLE  HELPS       149 

The  baby  which  she  had  brought  over  for 
me  to  examine,  and  which,  poor  little  crea- 
ture, showed  no  uncertain  signs  of  lack  of 
nourishment,  was  now  back  in  its  cradle,  and 
Jessie  was  crooning  over  it,  as  she  rocked  it 
eagerly  to  and  fro  to  try  and  soothe  its  crying 
for  that  which  the  claims  of  wise  Mother  Na- 
ture had  made  even  it  realize  in  its  waking  mo- 
ments. 

I  sat  gazing  at  the  scene,  and  pondering 
how  we  could  meet  the  emergency,  and  my 
eyes  rested  on  the  cradle,  and  slowly  it  began 
to  captivate  my  attention.  How  obviously 
new  it  was.  The  cut  edges  of  the  wood  were 
still  white  from  the  saw,  and  yet  there  was 
a  harmony  about  it  that  synchronized  with  the 
surroundings.  It  was  just  as  one  would  liked 
to  have  had  it.  And  after  all,  what  a  clever 
cradle  it  was:  The  old  barrel  had  been  of 
plain  cedar,  and  the  cradle  was  without  the 
gaudiness  of  paint.  It  had  none  of  the  spe- 
cious trappings  I  have  so  often  resented  about 
the  cradles  of  the  wealthy.  Its  plain,  uncur- 
tained top  collected  no  dust,  and  allowed  a  free 
play  of  air  about  the  baby's  face  which  pleased 
me  greatly.  A  bright  wool  blanket,  rising 
up  above  the  sides,  was  all  the  adornment 
it  possessed,  or  needed. 


I5o  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

Cradles!  How  many  I  had  seen  of  them, 
yet  this  was  the  first  of  its  kind  I  had  ever 
seen,  and  for  utility  and  for  dignity,  well  in 
the  first  rank  of  its  clan  anywhere.  And  so 
my  mind  went  roaming  off  to  cradles  that  I 
had  seen  from  London  to  Land's  End,  from 
New  York  to  San  Francisco.  But,  no.  As  my 
spirit  on  its  journey  reached  New  York,  it  got 
switched  off  sharply,  and  there  I  saw  myself 
once  again  sitting  in  evening  dress  in  a  modern 
palace,  among  a  crowd  of  the  city's  wealthiest, 
and  once  more  noticed  that  I  was  listening  to 
some  one  telling  of  babies'  food.  He  was  evi- 
dently speaking  of  what  he  knew. 

"Baby  food,"  he  said,  "has  almost  been  per- 
fetched  now.  You  can  carry  so  much  in  such 
a  little  space.  It  should  be  a  great  help  surely  to 
you  in  the  Labrador,  Doctor."  "What  food 
are  you  referring  to?"  I  could  hear  myself  say. 
"To  milk  dried  on  hot  drums  by  the  new  pro- 
cess. Statistics  show  it  to  be  better  and  softer 
for  babies  than  the  average  cow's  milk  sup- 
plied in  the  cities.  You  certainly  should  try 
it  among  your  northern  people."  And  again  my 
spirit  had  journeyed  on,  and  now  stood  gazing 
at  a  large  case  on  the  floor  of  our  city  office, 
labelled  in  large  black  letters,  "Mammala." 


EVERY  LITTLE  HELPS       151 

Surely  this  very  case  was  in  my  store-room 
now. 

"Jessie,"  I  said,  so  suddenly  that  had  the 
baby  been  in  her  lap  even  she  might  have 
dropped  it.  "Jessie,"  I  said,  "Andrew  will 
come  home  with  me  to-night,  and  in  a  fort- 
night we  will  have  your  baby  a  match  even  for 
Santa  Claus  here.  I'm  sure  of  it!"  "Thank 
God  if  you  is,  Doctor.  For  us  would  dearly 
love  to  keep  the  baby." 

The  Christmas  tree  seemed  to  shine  doubly 
bright  that  night,  and  the  many  excited  shouts 
of  the  children  seemed  doubly  sweet — all  be- 
cause there  was  just  one  more  chance  of  suc- 
cess in  the  struggle  for  the  life  of  others. 
Andrew  came  back  with  me,  just  to  see 
me  home;  and  left  next  morning  early 
with  some  mysterious  long  tins  safely  stowed 
away  in  the  "nonny"  bag  of  sealskin 
that  slung  over  his  shoulders.  As  I  saw 
him  trudging  away  on  his  racquets,  and 
felt  sure  of  what  such  humble  things  could 
mean  to  these  two  lives  on  this  lonely  coast, 
I  thanked  God  I  was  permitted  by  Him  to  en- 
joy a  lot  in  life  where  the  value  of  little  things 
is  emphasized ;  and  where  the  sweetest  joys  on 
earth  are  in  the  reach  of  every  man,  even  if  he 
possess  but  one  talent. 


152  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

"Oh,  yes,  the  baby  is  all  right,  Doctor.  I'm 
going  to  haul  it  and  Jess  over  with  my  dogs 
to  show  it  you  one  of  these  days,"  Andrew 
shouted  back  to  me  a  little  later,  as  hurrying 
across  the  country  with  my  trusty  team  I 
greeted  a  man  whom  we  passed,  working  at  a 
large  load  of  firewood  near  the  pathway,  and 
who  turned  out  to  be  our  good  friend  with 
the  baby. 

Ten  weeks  later  a  letter  bearing  the  official 
stamp  of  the  Department  of  Justice  was  de- 
livered by  our  belated  mail  from  a  small  sail- 
ing boat.  The  early  onset  of  warm  weather 
had  made  it  dangerous  for  the  long  series  of 
dog  teams  that  ordinarily  carry  our  communi- 
cations to  venture  with  the  last  batch  of  letters 
of  the  winter.  The  long-hoped-for  endorse- 
ment of  the  judgment  had  arrived.  The  baby's 
fate  was  finally  sealed,  and  its  prospects  for 
the  future  fully  justified  energy  voluntarily 
expended,  affording  a  satisfaction  which  is 
considered  sufficient  remuneration  for  the  am- 
ateur dispensation  of  justice  in  these  wilds. 


IX. 

Kindly  Hearts  on  Unkindly  Shores. 

SUMMER  had  nearly  come  to  a  close  on 
the  Labrador  coast,  and  the  hilltops 
and  barrens  were  flecked  with  snow. 
In  my  little  mission  steamer  I  had  already  come 
four  hundred  miles  south  from  the  village  on 
the  edge  of  Hudson  Bay  Straits,  which  forms 
my  turning  post  every  season.  I  had  left  the 
sick  and  injured  fishermen  whom  we  had 
picked  up  on  our  northern  trip  in  the  little  hos- 
pital on  the  group  of  islands  at  the  mouth  of 
Eskimo  Bay,  which  stretches  away  for  one 
hundred  and  thirty  miles  into  the  very  heart 
of  Labrador,  and  is  the  home  of  many  scat- 
tered trappers  and  salmon  fishers. 

At  this  time  of  year  most  of  the  families 
are  gathering  towards  the  trading  post,  to  set- 
tle up  with  the  trader  for  the  summer's  catch. 
Whatever  is  owing  to  them,  after  they  have 
turned  in  their  salted  salmon  and  codfish,  is 

153 


154  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

taken  up  in  food  and  other  necessary  supplies 
for  the  winter.  This  season  has  been  a  very 
hard  one.  Foxes  and  other  fur-bearing  ani- 
mals had  been  scarce  in  winter,  and  few  of 
the  trappers  had  done  more  than  pay  for  their 
advances  of  last  fall.  This  failure  had  been 
allowed  by  a  poor  salmon  fishery  in  the  Bay, 
and  to  wind  up  with,  a  rough,  stormy  summer 
had  not  only  caused  the  loss  of  many  large 
schooners  outside  the  Bay  in  the  heavier  wa- 
ters of  the  North  Atlantic,  but  had  continued 
so  rough  that  the  small  boats  belonging  to  the 
baymen  had  had  little  chance  to  retrieve  their 
fortunes  with  the  codfish  by  going  to  the  out- 
side islands  in  pursuit  of  them. 

The  outlook  for  the  long  winter  that  was 
already  looming  ahead  was  gloomy,  and  I 
found  my  good  friend,  the  trading  agent,  in  a 
restless  mood.  "It's  all  very  well  being  sta- 
tioned here,  Doctor,"  he  said,  "when  there  is 
enough  to  eat,  and  even  a  little  pinch  from  the 
wolf  won't  hurt  some  of  the  grown-up  men, 
but  I  tell  you  it's  hard  to  see  the  children  go- 
ing hungry."  "It  seems  to  me,"  I  replied, 
"that  it  will  be  more  than  an  ordinary  pinch 
some  of  them  will  get  this  time  if  something 
isn't  done,  for  I  met  even  so  good  a  man  as 
Fred  Stewart  going  up  to  his  winter  trapping 


KINDLY  HEARTS  155 

grounds  with  not  enough  to  last  his  big  family 
till  halfway  to  Christmas,  and  he  certainly 
won't  get  much  fur  before  then  to  help  him 
out." 

It  so  happened  that  very  morning  I  had  been 
standing  in  the  store  also  while  Willie  Mal- 
colm had  been  laying  out  the  meager  advance 
allowed  him — for  he  had  no  balance  coming 
to  him,  and  his  only  assets  were  his  debts.  I 
had  watched  him  hesitating  between  a  warm 
pair  of  socks  for  the  bare  legs  of  his  little  girl 
"Dollie"  and  another  pound  or  two  of  oleo- 
margarine— he  hadn't  anything  like  enough 
for  winter — and  of  course  there  isn't  any  other 
shop  where  you  can  buy  anything. 

It  just  went  to  my  heart  even  to  think  of 
that  sweet  little  face  being  pinched  with  hun- 
ger (and  I'm  not  her  father) — I  could  not  bear 
to  see  her  shivering  with  cold  while  I  went 
spending  money  on  things  I  didn't  need — be- 
sides, how  could  you  ask  God  to  bless  and  take 
care  of  the  child  and  then  leave  her  naked 
while  you  ate  candies.  Poor  Willie,  he  had 
kept  taking  up  the  stockings  and  putting  them 
down  again,  and  then  he  would  look  at  the 
open  tub  of  oleo — of  course  Dollie  need  not  go 
out  all  winter — she  could  sit  behind,  or  even 
under  the  stove,  as  I  have  seen  other  poor 


156  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

children  doing.  But  then  his  little  girl  would 
get  weak  and  pale,  and  no  one  can  tell  what 
might  happen  then,  for  that  is  the  forerunner 
so  often  of  swellings  and  running  sores  and 
of  death  even — all  strange  to  them,  but  we 
know  to  be  due  to  tubercle. 

But  then  if  her  father  took  the  stockings  he 
couldn't  have  the  oleo,  and  the  winter  is  so 
long  and  cold  that  if  they  had  no  fat  food  they 
might  even  not  live  through  it  all,  and  anyhow 
he  himself  would  not  be  fit  to  hunt  properly 
and  face  the  exposures  involved.  I  have 
known  Willie  Malcolm  ever  since  he  brought 
home  his  young  wife,  and  as  his  little  family 
came  along  I  have  been  so  glad  to  see  the 
plucky  fight  he  has  made  to  keep  independent. 
This  morning  he  was  so  long  making  up  his 
mind  the  storekeeper  went  off  to  look  after  an- 
other settler  who  had  come  in  to  trade.  I 
knew  quite  well  Willie  wouldn't  hesitate  a 
minute  if  it  was  only  a  question  of  a  luxury 
for  himself  and  stockings  for  his  little  girl, 
because  he  had  recently  given  up  his  pipe,  the 
one  and  only  companion  of  his  long,  lonely 
trails,  so  that  he  might  throw  in  the  few  cents 
he  saved  by  doing  so.  So  I  couldn't  help  feel- 
ing a  kind  of  additional  pity  for  him — indeed, 
I  had  to  look  out  of  the  window  and  rub  my 


KINDLY  HEARTS  157 

eyes  at  the  sun,  or  the  thick-headed  storekeeper 
might  have  thought  I  was  going  to  cry. 

Wasn't  it  just  worth  living  to  be  able  to 
turn  round  again,  when  I'd  got  the  dazzle  out 
of  my  eyes,  and  ask  Willie  if  he'd  mind  help- 
ing me  choose  a  Christmas  present  for  his  "lit- 
tle girl,"  and  when  he  said  he  "thought  Dollie 
would  like  a  pair  of  stockings,"  wasn't  it  grand 
to  have  "just  enough"  money  to  buy  the  two 
pairs.  "Because  you  know  Dollie  would  just 
love  to  have  a  pair  to  give  Harry."  This  is 
one  of  those  sermons  any  one  can  preach.  Ser- 
mons aren't  hard  things  to  make,  you  know,  if 
we  really  do  love  one  another. 

But  when  the  storekeeper  said  to  Willie, 
"You  can  take  the  whole  of  that  tub  along, 
Willie — I  guess  some  one  will  pay  some  day," 
I  believe  I  saw  Willie  trying  to  swallow  some- 
thing. But  somehow  I  couldn't  see  very  clear- 
ly either  just  then — people  are  silly,  aren't 
they?  But  I  think  it  was  better  far  than  buy- 
ing heaps  of  candies.  Don't  you?  And  I 
know  I  felt  as  if  I  could  easily  walk  ten  miles 
when  I  got  outside  the  store.  Everybody 
loves  preaching  that  kind  of  sermons. 

Then  again,  there  was  Allan  Wolfrey,  also 
— with  no  less  than  eight  children.  He  had 
been  fishing  outside  the  Bay,  and  he  had  done 


1 58  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

fairly  well.  I  had  seen  his  bright  little  wife 
a  week  ago,  and  she  had  said :  "Yes,  Doctor, 
us'll  have  all  us  needs ;"  but  then  she  had  add- 
ed, "still,  you  know,  Doctor,  there  be  them  as 
has  scarcely  a  bite  now,  and  what'll  become  of 
ours,  if  they  has  to  come  to  us  to  feed  'em  as 
well  as  ours,  I  don't  know.  Jerry  Deane  has  had 
to  move  his  house  the  winter,"  she  had  chatted 
on.  "He  was  so  close  to  the  winter  road  they 
fair  ate  him  out  o'  house  and  home  last  winter. 
He's  just  had  to  move  up  the  Bay  or  starve 
this  time."  This  is  because  in  Labrador,  of 
course,  no  one  pays  anything  for  hospitality. 
All  you  do  is  to  say,  "Where  am  I  going  to 
sleep?"  Then  they  know  you  are  going  to  stay 
the  night,  and  of  course  they  say,  "Wouldn't 
you  like  to  take  a  cup  o'  tea?"  No,  I  know  a 
cup  of  tea  isn't  much  to  give  you — just  bread 
and  butter  and  tea.  But  when  it's  all  they've 
got,  it's  wonderful  how  it  satisfies  you,  because 
they  do  give  it  so  freely. 

One  time  I  had  been  staying  with  some  fish- 
ermen for  two  or  three  days  because  a  big 
snowstorm  had  made  it  impossible  for  my 
dogs  to  take  me  along  on  our  route — I  was 
visiting  from  place  to  place  on  a  winter  round. 
The  morning  I  was  to  leave  I  found  Tim 
O'Reilly,  my  host,  had  gone  on  ahead  of  me. 


KINDLY  HEARTS  159 

"What  made  Tirn  go  ahead  this  morning?"  I 
asked  his  wife.  "Well,  you  know,"  she  said, 
"he  thought  he  would  break  a  path  for  your 
dogs — 'tis  only  twenty  miles,  anyhow,  and  the 
way's  somewhat  hard  to  find,  and  he  thought 
maybe  you  might  miss  the  road,  there  being 
no  tracks  left  after  the  storm.  And,  indeed, 
he  just  wanted  the  fun  of  a  drive,  Doctor." 

But  I  found  afterwards  that  he  had  carried 
on  a  tin  of  condensed  milk  and  some  real  sugar 
to  give  to  John  Samson,  whose  house  he  knew 
I  was  going  to  stay  at,  and  who  had  done 
badly  with  fish.  And  as  I  just  made  him  own 
up  later,  "Well,  sure,  you  know,  I  didn't  want 
John  to  feel  a  bit  ashamed,  and  that's  all  about 
it." 

Well,  it  did  seem  a  terrible  shame.  Here 
was  Allan's  boat  alongside  the  wharf  as  I 
walked  along,  and  the  poor  fellow  looking  as 
if  he  was  in  trouble.  I  called  out  to  his  wife, 
who  was  climbing  out  of  the  boat  with  a  bun- 
dle in  her  arms  with  baby  No.  8  in  it.  "Good 
day,  Susie,  I  thought  you  would  be  away  up 
the  Bay  by  now;  what's  brought  you  back?" 
"Allan  had  an  accident,  Doctor.  He  upset  his 
boat  and  lost  his  gun  and  a  lot  of  things — it 
might  have  been  worse,  thank  God !  for  it  was 
very  rough,  and  he  was  holding  onto  the  bot- 


160  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

torn  o'  the  boat  for  nigh  an  hour  before  they 
got  him.  Molly  Davis  saw  the  boat  upset. 
There  were  only  Allan  in  it,  and  she  called 
her  boys,  and  they  got  a  boat  out  and  went 
and  got  him,  thank  God!"  she  added,  and  a 
tear  trickled  down  her  cheek. 

Poor  Allan !  he  hadn't  a  word  to  say  at  first 
when  I  turned  to  him  for  his  account  of  the 
accident.  "If  it  wasn't  just  the  hunting  sea- 
son coming,  Doctor,  it  wouldn't  matter  so 
much,"  he  said  at  last.  "What  else  did  you 
lose  beside  the  gun,  Allan?"  "Only  our  win- 
ter fish  and  some  flour,"  he  said. 

In  the  boat  by  the  wharfside  lay  all  the  sup- 
plies they  were  carrying  up  the  Bay  for  winter. 
I  tried  to  peep  in  and  see  if  there  was  enough 
left,  but  the  seven  youngsters  left  in  the  boat 
were  spread  out  in  old  blankets,  which  so 
tightly  closed  up  the  chinks  that  all  I  could 
tell  was  that  a  good  deal  more  than  the  gun 
was  really  gone. 

"Allan's  a  good  hunter,"  my  friend  the 
agent  told  me  when  I  went  up  to  his  house  to 
take  tea.  "It  means  everything  to  him  to  lose 
his  new  gun.  It  cost  him  thirty-five  dollars 
only  two  months  ago,  and  he  had  been  saving 
up  for  years.  He  wouldn't  have  spent  so  much 
on  it  even  then,  only  he  ordered  it  last  year 


KINDLY  HEARTS  161 

when  times  were  better,  and  of  course  he  had 
to  stand  by  his  order.  Of  course  he  lost  his 
ammunition,  too.  If  he  could  get  a  gun 
by  hook  or  crook — if  it  was  only  an  old  muz- 
zle loader — I'd  give  him  ammunition  on  my 
own  account,  for  Allan's  a  straight  fellow — 
and — I've  got  a  lot  of  children  myself,"  he 
added,  turning  away. 

After  tea  I  thought  I'd  go  down  to  the  men's 
cook  house  and  have  a  talk  with  the  boys.  I 
was  much  pleased  to  find  Allan  there  cheer- 
fully taking  his  part  with  the  rest.  How  our 
folks  with  such  terrible  troubles  threatening 
can  keep  so  cheery  has  always  been  a  puzzle  to 
me.  But  Allan  seemed  to  have  forgotten  tem- 
porarily his  great  loss. 

It  so  happened  last  spring  I  was  callea  south 
from  the  hospital  with  my  dog  sledge  to  visit 
a  dying  lad  some  sixty  miles  to  the  southeast. 
By  some  mishap  I  had  fallen  through  into  the 
sea  and  drifted  off  many  miles  on  a  pan  of  ice. 
I  had  been  rescued  next  day,  having  lost  every- 
thing except  my  life.  My  friends  in  America 
had  heard  of  the  incident  and  had  sent  me 
back  more  things  than  I  really  lost.  After  a 
little  general  conversation  I  edged  up  along- 
side Allan  and  asked  him  how  he  came  to  be 
upset. 


1 62  'DOWN  to  The  SEA 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  was  called  to  go  south 
across  the  Bay  to  see  old  Sandy  Parian  before 
us  left  for  the  winter.  He's  getting  old,  you 
know,  Doctor,  and  there's  no  one  to  fend  for 
him  but  that  little  fellow  of  his.  We  was  all 
ready  to  start,  but  Susie  wanted  me  to  take 
the  old  man  something  towards  his  winter. 
We  was  in  a  hurry  to  be  up  the  Bay,  and 
though  it  was  blowing  fresh  the  wind  was  fair 
— so  I  ballasted  the  small  boat  down  with  a 
bit  o'  fish  and  some  flour  for  Sandy,  and  start- 
ed to  run  across.  Well,  it  got  nastier  and  nas- 
tier as  I  got  over,  but  of  course  I  couldn't  face 
back  in  the  small  boat,  so  I  just  had  to  make 
the  best  of  it.  As  I  got  near  the  other  side  and 
could  just  make  the  house  out,  a  steep  sea 
broke  under  the  boat's  quarter  and  threw  her 
clear  over — heels  over  head.  I  can't  swim  a 
yard,  Doctor,  as  you  knows,  but  the  Lord  let 
me  get  hold  of  the  gunwale  when  I  came  up, 
and  I  climbed  on  the  bottom  and  lay  flat  on  the 
keel,  gripping  the  edges  of  the  plank  with  my 
fingers — she  is  clinker  built,  fortunately,  and 
I  could  just  hold  by  the  overlapping  edges  o' 
the  planks.  Somehow  the  boat  didn't  roll  over 
with  me,  though  we  wallowed  along  in  the 
trough  of  the  seas,  every  wave  making  a  clean 
break  over  me — I  suppose  it  must  ha'  been  the 


KINDLY  HEARTS  163 

Lord  that  ruled  it  for  that  mast  and  sail  to 
stay  in  her.  I  never  hoped  to  be  able  to  hold 
on  long  enough  to  drive  ashore,  for  it  was  ter- 
rible cold,  as  you  know. 

"Yes,  I  thought  a  good  bit  of  Susan  and 
the  young  uns,  but  I  wasn't  afraid.  Was  you, 
Doctor,  on  that  icefloe  last  spring?"  he  inter- 
rogated. "I  suppose  all  you  remember,  Allan, 
after  that,  was  being  taken  off  by  Molly  Da- 
vis's  lads."  "I  don't  remember  much  about 
that  at  all,"  he  replied.  "Well,  yes,  we  did 
take  old  Sandy  a  wee  bit  more  on  our  way  up." 

There  was  a  long  pause.  "Allan,"  I  said, 
"it's  a  lucky  thing  it  was  a  gun  you  lost — why, 
I  happen  to  have  a  gun  right  in  my  cabin." 
"I  can't  take  your  gun,  Doctor,"  he  said,  "you 
will  want  that  yourself."  "It's  only  the  loan 
of  it,  Allan — you  can  always  give  it  me  back. 
I'm  going  out  of  the  country  anyhow  this  win- 
ter, and  /  haven't  any  'kids'  to  feed  with  it." 
There  was  another  long  pause  and  then, 
"Thank  you,  Doctor" — that  was  all  he  was  able 
to  say,  and  he  found  quite  a  difficulty  in  get- 
ting that  out.  But  he  squeezed  my  hand  till  I 
started  to  whistle,  and  we  went  out — to  see 
what  the  evening  was  like. 

Oh,  those  sermons!  How  sweet  it  is  that 
Christ  tells  us  we  can  all  be  made  fishers  of 


1 64  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

men,  even  if  we  are  not  able  to  make  speeches 
or  teach  in  schools!  Shan't  we  ask  Him  to 
give  us  all  chances  and  teach  us  to  do  what  he 
— the  Master — would  do  in  our  place? 

Allan  came  up  a  moment  or  two  later  as  I 
was  trying  to  make  out  Aldebaran  among  the 
magnificently  brilliant  stars  overhead.  "Where 
are  you  off,  Allan?"  I  said.  "I  thought  I'd 
just  go  around  and  tell  some  of  them  about 
the  gun,"  he  answered  vaguely.  "Well,  you 
tell  her  the  agent  has  something  for  her  in  the 
morning,  will  you,  if  she  hasn't  time  to  go  up 
to-night."  The  agent  was  smoking  on  the  plat- 
form in  front  of  his  house  when  at  last  I  went 
up  to  say  good  night.  He  just  finished  up 
that  hand  Allan  had  already  tried  to  put  out 
of  business  when  we  shook  hands.  "I  reckon 
I'll  be  able  to  stand  to  that  ammunition  O.  K. 
when  the  accounts  are  settled,"  he  said  quietly. 
"Good-night,  sleep  well,  good-night." 


X. 

The  Skipper's  Yarn. 


^e  e^ei"ly  skipper  by  whos? 
side  I  was  sitting  on  the  cabin  lock' 
er,  "no,  sur,  I  don't  know  how  us 
did  in  them  days  o'  schooners  at  all.  You  see, 
zur,  if  us  got  caught  in  the  floe  at  all,  there 
were  nothing  for  it  but  to  drift  about  wher- 
ever it  liked  to  take  un.  If  it  drove  her  agin 
the  land,  or  the  standing  ice,  it  was  little 
chance  enough  there  was  for  her.  Why,  zur, 
you  minds  well  the  year  Skipper  Blake  lost 
his  steamer  less'n  twenty-four  hours  out  from 
his  own  home.  It  were  all  done  in  five  min- 
utes, zur.  She  were  driven  back  by  a  huge 
pan  more'n  a  mile  long,  which  went  rafting 
along  over  the  standing  edge.  T'  mate  tried 
to  pop  her  into  a  kind  o'  bite  there  were  in  the 
edge,  and  had  nearly  got  round  the  point,  when 
t'  ole  man  comes  on  deck.  The  water  seemed 
somehow  sort  er  clear  to  the  sou'east,  so  the 

165 


1 66  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

skipper  he  twists  'er  round  and  puts  'er  at  it. 
Well,  zur,  it  seemed  as  if  it  were  for  to  be. 
For  the  big  pan  just  caught  her,  and  pinned 
'er  like  a  rat  in  a  trap — us  could  hear  her  ribs 
a-crackin'  like  nuts,  and  the  deck  beams  come 
up  just  like  a  arch,  and  bust,  and  you  could 
'a'  fallen  through  the  seams.  We  tried  pump- 
ing, but  bless  you!  it  weren't  no  good.  So  us 
landed  the  canvas  and  t'  grub  on  the  ice  be- 
fore it  slacken  again  about  twelve  hours  after. 
Then  she  just  throwed  up  her  head  and  goes 
down  starn  first,  and  we  was  left  a-looking 
for  her.  Thank  God,  it  weren't  far  from 
land,  and  every  man  got  ashore." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  he  added  sen- 
tentiously,  as  he  sucked  his  pipe,  "If  t'  ole  man 
had  only  stayed  below  five  minute  to  take  a 
cup  o'  tea,  I  thinks  it  wouldn't  'a'  happened  at 
all. 

"It  was  in  the  year  o'  Green  Bay,"  he  went 
on,  "when  the  winds  hung  so  long  in  t'  nor'- 
east,  and  so  many  vessels  was  lost — I  was  in 
the  Hesperus  wi'  my  boys.  We  was  drove  in 
by  the  pack  along  wi'  the  rest  of  'em.  But 
the  old  Hesperus  was  one  to  rise  easy,  and 
when  the  ice  started  rafting,  it  just  lifted  her 
up,  zur — like  a  baby,  zur — and  left  her  lying 
there.  It  carried  away  her  port  stanchions,  an' 


\The  SKIPPER'S  YARN.         163 

about  thirty  foot  o'  rails  an'  bulwarks.  But, 
bless  you!  beyond  that  she  weren't  even  so 
much  as  scratched.  Eight  o'  the  men  were 
that  scairt  they  went  an'  left  her,  but  my  boys, 
they  stood  by  me,  zur,  they  did !  Us  started  in 
to  get  some  food  an'  canvas  off  of  her,  in  case 
her  might  fall  in  t'  wrong  way ;  and  there  we 
bides  till  the  wind  showed  signs  o'  slacking. 
Well,  then,  zur,  us  gets  all  the  powder  us  had, 
and  blasted  away  at  them  pans  to  try  and  let 
her  keel  down  easy.  But  ne'er  a  bit  would 
she  budge,  till  there  were  only  a  twelve-pound 
keg  o'  powder  left,  and  not  a  single  inch  of 
fuse.  There  were  nothing  to  be  done  but  put 
it  right  under  her — so  us  sewed  the  stabber 
round  wi'  tarry  spun-yarn,  and  worked  a  bit 
o'  powder  in  wi'  it,  and  then  we  just  lets  her 
rip.  Well — zur — if  you'd  seed  that  old  ship 
get  up  on  end  and  look  at  us  that  solemn  like, 
zur,  you'd  a  laughed  till  you  cried,  as  all  o' 
us  done.  What  did  us  do  then?  Why,  we  all 
gets  aboard — stows  her  grub  an'  stuff  down 
below  again.  An'  us  got  twenty-one  hundred 
seals  afore  us  wet  an  anchor  or  saw  home 
again. 

"The  closest  call  I's  had,  it  is  you  wants,  is 
it  ?  Well,  zur,  I  thinks  it  were  one  time  I  was 
out  in  that  same  old  Hesperus.  We  was  away 


1 68  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

off  the  Funk  Islands,  and  the  swiles  was  away 
again  to  the  nor'ard;  at  least  so  it  seemed  to 
us.  But  the  wind  held  to  the  nor'ard  day  after 
day,  and  we  was  losing  ground  that  fast  in  the 
running  ice  that  there  was  nothing  for  it  but 
to  hitch  her  on  to  a  iceberg. 

"There  was  one  about  sixty  feet  or  more 
high  as  we  was  driving  by,  and  there  were  two 
grand  pinnacles  on  it.  So  a  dozen  of  us  land- 
ed on  the  floe,  and  got  alongside  as  best  us 
could.  Wi'  our  axes  we  cut  steps  up  the  side 
of  un,  till  us  got  safely  on  'is  shoulder,  and 
then  passes  our  bight  line  round  one  pinnacle, 
an'  hauls  the  big  hawser  home,  and  made  fast. 
Meanwhile  the  ice  has  been  wheeling  pretty 
fast  wi'  the  breeze,  and  all  of  a  suddent  the 
berg  got  clear  and  was  floating  in  open  water. 
There  was  a  heavy  swell  running,  and  as  soon 
as  ever  she  shook  free,  down  she  started  to  go. 
Our  schooner  were  away  to  leeward  the  whole 
length  o'  the  line,  and  there  were  ne'er  a  boat 
afloat.  Well,  zur,  t'  berg  went  down  that  slow 
and  that  steady,  us  didn't  notice  it  till  us  was 
almost  down  to  the  water,  so  that  I  had  hardly 
time  to  sing  out,  'Hang  on  the  line,  boys!' 
when  the  first  sea  broke  right  over  us.  Only 
one  man  had  let  go,  and,  luckily  enough  for 
him,  the  sea  jammed  him  in  against  a  sharp 


The  SKIPPER'S   YARN         169 

ledge  of  ice  wi'  the  hawser  taut  against  his 
legs.  She  didn't  stay  down  a  minute,  how- 
ever; indeed,  she  must  ha'  gone  level  wi'  the 
surface,  I  supposes,  and  then  up  she  starts  to 
come  again,  just  as  she  went  down,  that  sol- 
emn and  that  slow,  as  if  the  whole  world  be- 
longed to  her.  When  we  had  found  out  where 
we  was  again,  we  were  well  up  in  the  air  and 
a  boat  was  pulling  towards  us  for  all  she  was 
worth.  One  o'  our  fellows  somehow  got 
frightened,  and  when  we  was  good  sixty  feet 
up  again,  he  rushes  to  t'  edge  shoutin',  'My 
God,  I  ain't  goin'  to  stay  on  this  thing  no 
longer!'  And,  zur,  youse  mayn't  believe  me, 
but  if  I  hadn't  'a'  catched  him  by  the  collar, 
jump  he  would  have,  sure  enough.  No  one 
else  said  nothing,  'cept  Old  Uncle  Pete,  and 
he  just  said  in  his  slow  old  way,  'It  don't  seem 
as  if  us  is  going  to  be  lost  this  time  after  all, 
do  it,  skipper?'  He  said  it  that  droll  I  had  to 
stop  and  laugh  in  spite  o'  having  to  tie  the 
small  line  to  the  hawser  and  let  all  hands  swing 
into  the  boat.  We  was  soaked  through,  and 
cold,  too,  and  there  weren't  no  time  to  waste 
anyhow — leastways  it  seem'  so — for  the  ole 
berg  were  on  'er  way  down  again  ahead.  As 
it  were,  howsomever,  the  hawser  held  on  to  the 
pinnacles,  and  us  had  just  time  to  get  clear 


170  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

before  another  sea  broke  over  her.  Yes,  o' 
course  she  might  ha'  tipped  over ;  many  on  'em 
does,  as  you  says,  but  then  you  see  she  didn't, 
and  that's  all  about  it.  Well,  o'  course,  when 
the  loose  ice  wheeled  back,  it  steadied  her  up 
again,  and  us  held  on  just  as  long  as  us  wanted. 
No,  I  didn't  care  about  goin'  up  on  her  again 
to  let  go,  but  what  o'  that  ?" 

The  inquiry  into  unnecessary  details  seemed 
to  worry  the  old  fellow,  so  I  quietly  passed 
him  my  tobacco-pouch  and  went  up  to  look 
at  the  weather,  while  he  pulled  himself  to- 
gether for  another  yarn. 


XL 

"There  His  Servants  Serve  Him." 

THE  winter's  ice  is  breaking  up,  and 
spring  in  the  sub-arctic  is  commen- 
cing. In  the  phraseology  of  my  blue- 
guernseyed  friends,  I  am  "bound  for  the  Lab- 
rador," whither  they  are  also  making  their 
way  in  thousands  in  their  annual  endeavor 
to  reap  the  rich  harvest  of  the  sea,  which  for 
a  hundred  years  that  apparently  barren  coast 
has  yielded  to  their  skill  and  courage. 

Already  most  of  their  adventurous  barks  are 
"down  north,"  picking  their  somewhat  hazard- 
ous paths  through  the  pack-ice,  which  this  year 
has  lain  terribly  late  along  the  Atlantic  sea- 
board of  this  grim  continent. 

The  last  land  our  vessel  touched  at  was  Syd- 
ney in  Cape  Breton,  where  we  put  in  to  es- 
cape a  thick  fog  in  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence. 

The  weather  had  been  moderate  till  near 
sundown,  but  then  a  steadily  rising  wind  had 
171 


172  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

given  most  of  us  a  very  broken  night.  For 
the  rough  water  caused  by  the  strong  current 
going  south  against  the  breeze  had  rolled  up  a 
nasty  sea,  and  incidentally  rolled  us  so  un- 
generously that  sleep  under  the  conditions, 
when  one  had  come  straight  from  a  long  pe- 
riod among  "the  landlubbers,"  was  in  our 
small  vessel  out  of  the  question. 

Moreover,  we  needed  fresh  water,  one  of 
those  few  commodities  that  these  cliffs  and 
valleys  supply  freely  and  without  stint;  so  the 
master  kad  decided  to  run  into  a  harbor  as 
soon  as  the  sea  and  the  darkness  should  make 
an  approach  to  the  land  possible. 

Now  it  is  Sunday  morning,  and  the  rattle 
of  the  anchor-chain  in  the  hawse-pipe  had 
scarcely  died  away.  The  surface  of  the  har- 
bor is  as  placid  as  a  duck-pond,  being  shel- 
tered from  the  stormy  breeze  that  is  blowing 
outside  by  mighty,  overhanging  hills,  exquis- 
itely covered  with  dark  green  evergreen  spruces 
and  pines. 

Along  the  partly  cleared  foreshore  peep  out 
the  scattered  houses  of  a  little  hamlet,  and  as 
yet,  except  for  the  smoke  rising  from  a  single 
chimney,  no  signs  of  life  are  visible. 

The  morning  sun  has  risen  above  the  high 
peaks  of  a  mountain  range  some  half-dozen 


His  SERVANTS  SERVE  HIM   173 

miles  inland,  and  the  long  rays  streaming 
through  the  gaps  in  the  sides  of  the  winding 
fiord  are  striking  here  and  there  the  mirror  of 
the  smooth  water,  and,  repeated  thence,  are 
dancing  like  sprites  on  the  cliff  faces  of  the 
opposite  side  of  the  inlet.  Our  own  vessel  is 
swathed  in  sunshine  from  above  and  below  as 
she  lies  lazily  lolling  on  the  azure  water  of  this 
northern  sea. 

It  has  been  my  lot  for  many  years  to  be 
trying  to  solve  the  problem  of  how  best  to  con- 
tend with  sickness  and  suffering  along  this 
long  coast-line.  Here  the  distances  between 
the  homes  of  the  settlers,  and  their  inability  to 
pay  large  fees,  render  impossible  the  methods 
that  obtain  in  large  communities,  with  the  re- 
sult that  for  hundreds  of  miles  no  medical  or 
skilled  assistance  of  any  kind  is  available  in 
times  of  trouble.  Thus  a  vague  terror  of 
things  unknown  hovers  over  these  little  fam- 
ilies, and  a  wake  of  lives  and  capacities  need- 
lessly lost  ever  lies  behind  them. 

"  Tis  a  powerful  healthy  coast,  Doctor,"  an 
optimistic  skipper  said  to  me  the  other  day, — 
while  his  own  daughter  of  eighteen  lay  dying 
of  tuberculosis  in  his  parlor,  owing  mainly  to 
their  lamentable  lack  of  knowledge  of  the  very 
first  rudiments  of  sanitary  science. 


,174  'DOWN  to  The  SEA 

Years  of  experience  have  taught  me  that  it 
requires  service  in  varied  forms  to  relieve 
troubles  which  are  so  patiently  and  uncom- 
plainingly borne  that  the  very  fatalism  that  is 
the  outcome  makes  it  almost  impossible  to  in- 
troduce what  seem  to  be  "newfangled"  meth- 
ods. It  is,  with  but  little  knowledge,  possible 
to  do  much  with  the  remedies  nature  furnishes 
on  the  spot. 

"Doctor,  I  wants  you  to  look  at  my  Johnny," 
said  a  young  mother  this  morning.  "His  legs 
be  all  snarled  up." 

It  was  only  an  ordinary  case  of  rickets,  but 
unnecessary,  for  the  remedy  was  right  at  hand. 

"Take  some  of  those  light  bluish  stones  off 
the  beach  and  burn  them  thoroughly;  then 
throw  some  hot  water  on  them.  Get  the  white 
powder  and  put  a  lot  of  it  in  a  jug.  Shake  it 
up  well,  and  let  it  settle.  Pour  off  the  clear 
water,  and  give  Johnny  a  tablespoonful  three 
times  a  day." 

"Can  you'se  come  to  see  my  'ooman,  Doc- 
tor?" said  the  father  of  a  family  to  me  a  little 
while  ago,  soon  after  we  had  come  to  an 
anchor.  "She  be  terrible  bad,  and  be  turning 
black  all  over." 

A  short  walk  through  a  grove  of  spruce 
trees  along  a  beach  abounding  in  wild  parsley, 


His  SERVANTS  SERVE  HIM    175 

and  across  a  greensward  yellow  with  dande- 
lions, brought  us  to  a  tiny  log  house.  Here 
lay  the  mother  of  a  young  family,  the  fetid 
bleeding  mouth,  the  swollen  black  patches,  and 
the  painful,  discolored  legs  proclaiming  it  to 
be  a  case  of  sailors'  scurvey.  She  was  suffer- 
ing untold  agonies,  while  strewn  all  the  way 
from  the  landing-place  to  the  very  house  door 
lay  the  only  remedies  needed. 

The  white  plague,  however,  which  works  so 
secretly  that  our  people  have  never  yet  recog- 
nized its  malignity,  exacts  the  most  appalling 
tribute  from  us.  Sitting  here  in  the  sunshine 
on  an  old  sea-chest  is  a  boy  of  fifteen.  His 
pallid  and  sunken  cheeks,  and  his  occasional 
hollow  cough,  proclaim  their  own  story.  We 
have  just  dragged  him  out  of  a  dark  cabin  of 
wood  and  mud,  where  no  window  opened, 
where  the  door  closed  almost  air-tight,  where 
there  is  no  open  chimney,  but  only  a  large 
stove  with  an  iron  smoke- funnel,  and  where 
this  boy  lay  weighted  down  with  all  the  heavy 
garments  the  efforts  of  misdirected  love  could 
pile  upon  him. 

Scenes  so  harrowing  and  homes  so  saddened 
"just  for  the  want  of  a  little  knowledge"  have 
not  been  without  their  effect  on  our  policy. 

Indeed,  right  here  in  this  tiny  village  off 


176  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

which  we  have  so  incontinently  come  to 
anchor,  somewhere  among  these  scattered  cot- 
tages is  working  at  this  very  moment  a  trained 
nurse  for  the  first  time  in  history.  Hither  she 
has  come  in  response  to  onr  appeal  for  help. 
She  has  come  at  her  own  private  cost  and 
charges  all  the  long  distance  between  this  place 
and  New  York, — just  to  spend  the  six  months 
of  summer,  trying,  for  the  great  Master's  sake, 
to  "do  what  she  can"  for  these  His  brethren. 
The  skill  acquired  so  patiently  and  at  such  cost 
at  a  large  New  York  hospital  is  not  the  least 
of  her  contributions. 

From  letters  she  has  already  sent  me,  I  most 
shrewdly  guess  that  the  solitary  column  of  as- 
cending smoke  marks  a  cottage  where  she  is 
tending  some  sick  child,  or  possibly  one  of 
those  so  common  cases  where  just  the  loving, 
skilful  service  she  alone  in  this  place  is  able 
to  render  may  now  be  standing  the  only  barrier 
betwixt  life  and  death. 

As  my  eye  wanders  around  the  shore  I  can 
distinguish  here  the  cross-surmounted  spire  of 
a  Catholic  church,  and  close  to  it  the  little 
home  of  the  missionary  priest.  Further  away 
to  the  side  I  can  see  a  building  which  in  spite 
of  its  rude  architecture  I  can  readily  distin- 
guish as  an  Episcopal  church,  while  away  to- 


His  SERVANTS  SERVE  HIM    177 

ward  the  rocky  headland  which  we  rounded  as 
we  came  in  is  obviously  the  building  in  which 
the  Methodists  of  this  scattered  district  gather 
for  divine  worship. 

These  buildings  demand  the  services  of  at 
least  three  men's  lives, — men  no  doubt  de- 
voted, earnest,  and  unselfish.  For  the  material 
return  that  a  minister  of  the  gospel  can  ex- 
pect for  the  services  he  is  called  on  to  render 
must  yet  be  meagre,  down  here,  in  compari- 
son with  that  which  a  commercial  life  could 
return  to  him. 

These  more  pretentious  houses  with  real 
bow  windows  and  bravely  ornamented  porches 
are  not  the  residences  that  the  men  who  serve 
the  churches  can  expect,  but  are  undoubtedly 
the  homes  of  the  owners  of  these  trading 
wharves  I  see  projecting  into  the  harbor.  The 
minister  of  religion  can  expect,  along  this 
coast,  at  least,  so  far  to  share  the  measure 
meted  out  to  the  Master.  If  he  seeks  here  for 
the  joys  of  life  in  a  coin  different  from  that 
which  the  Christ  found  His  in,  he  is  doomed 
only  to  disappointment. 

On  the  other  hand,  to  these  men  belongs  the 
high  privilege  of  speaking  for  their  Master. 
They  can  gather  crowds  around  them,  and  can 
expect  to  enjoy  the  real  reward  of  service  in 


i78  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

seeing  many  men  listen  to  their  spoken  mes- 
sage and  answer  to  it  in  their  lives.  To  many 
there  seems  a  special  dignity  at  first  in  this 
form  of  service, — a  special  value  to  life  that 
the  man  of  commerce,  the  man  with  the  hook 
and  line,  the  nurse  with  her  bag  of  comforts 
and  only  her  own  two  hands,  have  no  right  to 
expect  to  realize  so  fully. 

It  is  evening  now,  and  the  sun  is  setting.  I 
have  been  ashore  all  day,  following  the  trip- 
ping footsteps  of  the  nurse  as  she  wended  her 
way  now  over  the  hills  from  house  to  house, 
now  independently  paddling  in  her  own  canoe 
from  point  to  point  in  the  inlet,  much  to  the 
anxiety  of  these  men  of  the  sea,  who  "be  un- 
acquainted with  the  like." 

I  have  been  following  her  at  her  own  re* 
quest,  that  she  might  obtain  some  advice,  some 
help,  some  encouragement,  for  "her  family," 
— a  family  so  very  dependent  on  her  efforts. 
Indeed,  as  she  waved  me  good-bye  this  even- 
ing as  I  left  the  shore  for  my  ship,  she  assured 
me  that  even  she  herself  was  glad  of  the  en- 
couragement. For  alas!  it  is  true,  nineteen 
hundred  years  later,  that  the  bearer  of  the 
message  of  God's  love,  and  the  carrying  of  the 
Christ  into  men's  homes,  however  undeniable 
be  the  form  of  service  that  we  would  commend 


His  SERVANTS  SERFE  HIM    179 

Him  by,  still  find  their  detractors;  and  ever 
the  good  of  "those  who  do  good"  causes  the 
tongue  of  the  unprofitable  to  wag  in  malice, 
with  a  view  to  discredit  and  discourage  the  ef- 
fort of  any  who  would  interpret  love  by  work. 

First  among  our  visits  to-day  was  one  to  a 
woman  with  a  huge  swelling,  which  proved  to 
be  a  tumor  needing  immediate  removal.  Next 
came  a  young  girl  with  intermittent  appendi- 
citis, who  should  be  at  once  operated  on.  This 
mother,  too,  lying  here  in  bed  so  patiently, 
should,  with  but  trifling  medical  skill,  be  able 
to  go  about  her  household  duties  again.  This 
young  fisherman  and  father,  incapacitated  by 
an  injury  caused  by  a  heavy  strain  at  his  work, 
could  be  so  easily  made  a  new  man.  Here  is 
a  woman  crippled  for  years  by  a  loose  body 
in  her  knee-joint,  an  injury  comparatively 
quite  simple  to  repair,  yet  one  which  makes 
"getting  about"  both  a  misery  and  danger. 

As  we  passed  along,  word  evidently  kept 
travelling  ahead  of  us  that  we  were  on  our 
rounds.  For  nearly  every  little  door  or  gar- 
den-gate was  ajar;  and  as  we  came  by  a  shy 
invitation,  "just  to  come  in  a  minute"  and  see 
some  member  of  the  household,  kept  us  so  long 
at  work  that  the  evening  services  at  the 
churches  were  over  long  ere  we  reached  the 


i8o  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

side  of  the  fiord  we  had  left  in  the  morning, 
where  our  ship  lay,  and  where  the  little 
churches  stood. 

As  I  bade  good-night  to  rny  indefatigable 
companion,  I  said,  "You  must  be  tired  to 
death,  nurse." 

"Not  a  bit,"  she  replied ;  "I'm  just  as  fresh 
as  paint  still." 

"Well,  be  sure  to  catch  the  next  mail 
steamer  bound  for  the  hospital  at  Battle  Har- 
bor, and  bring  with  you  at  least  those  five  out 
of  your  little  family."  Odd  as  it  may  seem,  I 
believed  firmly  that  the  message  of  love  would 
come  to  them,  at  any  rate,  most  truly  through 
the  surgeon's  knife. 

And  now  it  is  time  to  "turn  in."  The  ship 
is  already  silent;  there  is  no  need  to  keep  an 
anchor-watch,  and  all  hands  are  sleeping  but 
myself.  On  shore  also  once  again  I  can  make 
out  no  signs  of  the  stir  of  human  life.  The 
last  twinkling  light  in  a  cottage  window  has 
just  gone  out. 

But  I  am  still  lingering  under  God's  beauti- 
ful curtain  overhead,  watching  the  brilliant 
worlds  above  peeping  through  at  us  below; 
and  my  mind  goes  a-wandering,  as  it  were, 
'twixt  the  practicalities  of  the  brief  day  of  hu- 
man life  and  the  eternity  that  surrounds  it. 


His  SERVANTS  SERVE  HIM    181 

How  infinitely  small  seems  our  utmost  oppor- 
tunity for  making  our  poor  life  worth  while! 
And  yet  there  is  in  my  heart,  and  in  every 
right-thinking  child  of  man's,  the  confidence 
that  we,  departing,  can  "leave  behind  us  foot- 
prints on  the  sands  of  time"  that  we  should  not 
be  ashamed  of. 

The  events  of  the  day  just  gone  forever 
once  more  repeat  themselves  in  my  memory; 
and  there  is  a  longing  now  that  He  who  made, 
and  rules  on  high,  all  this  great  universe,  and 
whose  eye  is  now  upon  me  as,  alone  on  this 
deck,  I  look  up  into  His  heavens — a  longing 
that  He  may  find  something  among  all  the 
things  we  have  considered  worth  while  at  the 
time — something — that  He  can  commend. 

What  would  I  commend?  Which  is  the 
"service"  that  seems  undeniable, — a  worthy 
service  for  the  King  of  kings? 

Possibly  we  grade  wrongly  what  "service" 
means,  and,  in  giving  to  the  various  forms  of 
worship  the  term  of  "service,"  have  lost  sight 
of  the  fact  that  in  singing  and  praying  and 
talking,  or  in  correct  intellectual  assent  merely, 
we  are  conferring  no  favor  on  the  King. 
Rather  are  we  at  these  times  merely  coming 
near  to  Him,  that  He  may  confer  on  us  fresh 
favors  of  His  courage,  His  wisdom,  and  His 


1 82  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

strength;  that  we  may  go  out  to  render  better 
the  real  service  He  calls  for. 

I  was  glad  that  He  had  given  me  time  to 
join  the  others  in  their  simple  form  of  wor- 
ship when  the  day  began ;  but  I  saw  no  reason 
to  regret — though  selfishly  I  would  have  liked 
it  otherwise — that  the  humble  services  to  His 
brethren,  such  as  with  the  nurse  I  had  been 
rendering,  had  prevented  me  from  again  join- 
ing the  congregation  in  their  evening  hymns 
of  faith  and  praise. 

For  there  sang  in  my  heart  a  voiceless  hymn 
that  shall  echo  on  when  the  strains  of  the 
service  rendered  by  voice  only  shall  have  died 
away, — a  very  song  of  heaven  that  once  sang 
even  on  His  cross  in  our  Master's  heart,  such 
a  hymn  as  I  know  must  sing,  even  at  the  dark- 
est hours,  in  the  hearts  of  all  those  whom  He 
blesses  with  the  faith  that  in  serving  our 
brethren  we  render  the  highest  service  we  are 
capable  of  rendering,  with  our  poor  talents,  to 
Him. 


XII. 
A  Physician  In  the  Arctic. 

A  GREAT  good  fortune  it  is  to  live 
among  deep  sea  fishermen  on  this  or 
the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic.  Splen- 
did material  they  are,  none  better.  Their 
simple,  hard  lives  and  their  constant  business 
on  great  waters  develop  all  that  is  good  and 
virile  in  them,  and  indeed,  who  ever  knew  a 
mean  deep  sea  man?  Their  self-reliance  and 
simple  courage  are  sermons  needing  no  words. 
Their  many  deeds  of  self-sacrificing  bravery 
are  still  done  where  there  can  be  no  doubt 
about  the  motive,  for  they  neither  expect  nor 
receive  reward  in  gold  and  silver,  or  in  the 
praise  of  men. 

The  constant  perils  and  great  hardships  of 
their  lives  and  the  lives  of  the  fisher  folk  along 
the  coast  are  brought  home  to  us  every  year 
by  new  tales  of  suffering  and  bravery.  The 
experience  of  one  fisherman  we  knew  is  typical 

183 


i84  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

of  what  happens  only  too  frequently  in  that 
country.  This  man,  wishing  to  go  South  for 
the  winter,  started  in  his  small  fishing  boat, 
with  his  wife,  four  children,  a  servant  girl 
and  his  fishing  partner.  Scarcely  had  they 
left  when  a  furious  gale  of  wind  sprang  up. 
The  mainsail  and  jib,  with  the  mast,  were  all 
blown  over  the  side,  and  the  boat  was  driven 
before  the  wind.  Three  days  and  three  nights 
they  drove  off  into  the  Atlantic.  On  the  third 
day  the  wind  veered,  and  they  were  able  to 
put  up  a  small  foresail  they  had  saved  and 
drag  in  the  direction  of  the  land.  Two  more 
terrible  days,  and  at  last,  when  the  boat  was 
quite  unmanageable,  they  found  the  land  close 
under  their  lee.  Their  condition  was  seen 
just  before  they  drove  ashore  and  a  rescue  at- 
tempted, but  too  late  to  save  their  boat.  All 
their  lives,  however,  were  saved  by  the  in- 
domitable perseverance  of  the  half  dozen  set- 
tlers. Instead  of  being  south  of  where  they 
left,  they  were  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
north,  and  indeed  were  in  Labrador.  There 
was  no  chance  to  leave  so  late  in  the  season, 
and  there  they  had  to  stay  till  the  following 
summer,  fed  by  the  kindness  of  their  poor 
neighbors  and  dead  to  all  their  friends  for  at 
least  six  months.  A  similar  accident  to  one  of 


THE    PHYSICIAN    IN    THE    LABRADOR 


A  PHYSICIAN  in  The  ARCTIC  185 

our  English  fishing  vessels  left  the  crew  of 
ten  men  on  the  south  coast  of  Iceland  all  one 
winter.  When  they  came  back  in  the  fol- 
lowing spring  by  the  first  possible  boat,  not 
only  had  the  insurance  on  all  their  lives  been 
paid  and  mostly  spent,  but  one  man's  wife 
had  married  again. 

Gales  in  these  regions  in  winter  are  often 
terribly  severe.  The  little  new  church  built 
here  where  I  am  wintering  now  was  a  few 
years  ago  blown  clean  away.  Even  the  pews, 
the  pulpit  and  the  communion  table  were  all 
blown  into  the  sea. 

Few  fishermen  can  swim.  "You  see  we  has 
enough  o'  the  water  without  goin'  to  bother 
wi'  it  when  we  are  ashore,"  a  man  said  to  me 
only  the  other  day.  Yet  this  very  man  had 
fallen  overboard  in  the  open  sea  no  less  than 
four  times,  and  had  only  been  saved  on  one 
occasion  by  catching  the  line  thrown  him  in 
his  teeth  and  holding  on  till  he  was  hauled 
aboard.  His  hands  were  too  numbed  to  be 
of  any  use.  Still  this  fact  does  not  deter  them 
from  facing  the  water.  In  an  open  bay  in 
Labrador  lives  one  solitary  settler.  In  the 
spring  of  the  year,  when  the  ice  was  just 
breaking  up,  the  man's  two  lads  were  out  on 
the  bay  ice  after  seals,  when  all  of  a,  sudden  it 


1 86  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

gave  way  and  the  lads  fell  through.  The 
father,  seeing  it  from  the  shore,  did  not  hesi- 
tate, but  seizing  a  fishing  line  hastily  fastened 
one  end  round  his  body,  and  giving  the  other 
end  to  his  daughter  to  hold,  he  ran  out  to  the 
hole  through  which  they  had  fallen.  He 
jumped  into  the  water,  actually  went  down 
and  fetched  up  the  bodies,  too  late,  alas,  how- 
ever, to  restore  life  to  them  after  that  cold 
water.  These  tales  could  be  multiplied  in- 
definitely. And  there  are  many  heroic  tales 
of  women.  Early  in  the  fall  the  arm  of  the 
sea  just  north  of  our  little  hospital  was  frozen 
over  enough  to  allow  dog  trains  to  travel  over 
it.  In  the  early  morning  two  men  started  off 
to  cross  it  on  a  komatik,  to  cut  firewood  on 
the  far  side.  As  they  rounded  a  headland  the 
whole  of  the  team  fell  in  through  the  ice, 
where  an  eddying  tide  had  kept  it  open.  The 
komatik  followed  into  the  water,  carrying  the 
men  with  it.  One  disappeared  under  the  ice 
and  was  drowned.  The  other  got  free  and 
held  on  to  the  ice  edge,  though  he  was  unable 
to  crawl  out  on  top  of  it.  From  the  shore 
his  sister  saw  the  accident  and  at  once  started 
to  run  over  the  ice  to  his  aid.  As  she  drew 
near  she  heard  men  shouting,  and  saw  they 
were  pulling  a  boat  down  to  the  ice  some  dist- 


'A  PHYSICIAN  in  The  ARCTIC  187 

ance  away.  They  shouted  to  her,  "For  God's 
sake,  don't  go  near  the  hole."  Instead  of  stop- 
ping she  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  throw 
herself  full  length  on  the  ice  and  glide  along 
till  she  got  near  enough  with  outstretched  arms 
to  reach  her  brother's  hand.  Already  he  was 
half  frozen  to  death.  But  she  managed  to 
get  him  up  enough  to  rest  on  the  ice  near  her, 
and  then  to  lie  perfectly  still  till  the  boat  came, 
when  she  was  at  length  taken  off.  One  of 
her  own  legs  was  through  the  ice.  The  tough, 
salt  water  ice.  fortunately  does  not  split  as  the 
brittle,  fresh  water  ice  does.  Her  brother's 
life  was  saved,  and  there  the  incident  ended. 

"What  made  you  go  on  ?"  I  asked  her. 

"I  couldn't  see  him  drown,  could  I?"  was 
her  simple  reply. 

Besides  sailors  and  the  Eskimos,  my  clien- 
tele includes  some  four  to  five  thousand  white 
settlers,  scattered  all  along  the  coast  of  Lab- 
rador from  Cape  Chidley  to  the  Gulf  of  St. 
Lawrence,  and  along  the  north  shores  of  New- 
foundland. They  are  a  most  heterogeneous 
class,  drafted  from  almost  everywhere  and 
descended  from  Scotch,  south  of  England, 
and  French  parentage.  They  have  become 
fishermen  and  trappers  and  live  under  circum- 
stances as  adverse  as  it  is  possible  to  conceive 


1 88  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

of,  quite  cut  off  from  civilization.  In  many 
respects  they  may  be  said  to  bear  the  flavor 
of  prehistoric  times  and  this  often  affects  my 
practice  in  curious  ways.  They  have  a  firm 
belief  in  the  healing  power  of  charms,  the 
efficacy  of  which  of  course  lies  in  faith. 

The  call  for  education  in  matters  sanitary 
was  emphasized  at  one  house  I  visited.  The 
man  had  lost  from  tuberculosis  three  daughters, 
two  of  them  married,  in  thirteen  months,  his 
eldest  son  was  badly  affected,  and  another 
house  had  every  child  rickety.  This,  of 
course,  is  far  more  emphasized  in  the  case  of 
animals.  I  found  one  poor  fellow  in  sore 
trouble  over  his  sick  cow.  He  had  already, 
with  a  long  gimlet,  bored  holes  into  its  head 
through  to  the  root  of  its  horns,  as  he  was  told 
it  was  "  horn-bound,"  by  much  the  same  rea- 
soning process  that  some  of  our  people  attrib- 
ute the  squalling  of  their  babies  to  being 
"  tongue-tied."  The  animal,  however,  had  not 
improved,  and  I  was  called  in,  though  I  real- 
ized at  once  my  limitations  in  the  "  cow-doctor 
line."  The  poor  beast  seemed  feverish  and  too 
weak  to  stand,  and  eventually  died. 

Late  one  evening  a  fisherman  came  off  to 
our  vessel,  a  shy  sort  of  fellow.  He  had  tied 
his  boat  and  seated  himself  on  the  taffrail 


A  PHYSICIAN  in  The  ARCTIC  189 

where  he  had  apparently  been  waiting  a  full 
hour  or  more  before  I  happened  to  go  up  on 
deck  to  see  what  kind  of  a  night  it  was  and 
stumbled  against  him. 

"Are  you  the  doctor,  sir?"  he  asked.  "I 
want  bleeding,  please  sir."  To  ease  his  mind 
I  called  him  below  to  examine  him.  Finding, 
however,  it  was  only  a  case  of  impure  blood 
without  any  symptoms  and  having  no  patience 
to  spend  time  on  nihilitis,  I  dismissed  him 
unbled  and  turned  in. 

At  daylight,  when  we  rose  to  get  under  way, 
he  was  on  board  again,  very  dejected  and  com- 
ing up  to  me  offered  me  a  dollar  to  bleed  him. 
A  dollar  cash  on  this  coast  is  a  thing  a  man 
so  seldom  gets  he  never  parts  with  it  if  he 
can  help  it.  Evidently  it  was  best  to  bleed 
him  for  his  mind's  sake.  So  I  did  it.  "You 
see,  sir,"  he  said,  while  the  operation  was  go- 
ing on,  "an  old  Indian  squaw,  she  bleed  my 
feet  a  good  spell  ago  and  I  haven't  had  ne'er 
a  pain  since.  So  when  they  told  me  there  was 
a  doctor  aboard,  I  thought  it  was  a  good 
chance."  But  he  added  half  regretfully,  "it 
didn't  feel  quite  the  same.  She  bored  the 
holes  with  a  kind  o'  corkscrew." 

The  most  satisfactory  part  of  our  work 
perhaps,  is  the  ability  to  save  by  simple  sur- 


1 90  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

gical  means  the  loss  of  functions  that  stand 
for  the  difference  between  a  wretched  existence 
and  a  life  of  comparative  enjoyment,  and  be- 
tween plenty  and  want.  Even  a  failure  does 
not  distress  us  as  it  would  in  a  city,  for  we 
are  at  least  the  best  surgeons  here  and  there  is 
no  other  man  round  the  corner  who  would 
have  done  the  thing  much  better.  We  took  in 
once  a  patient,  stone  blind  for  two  years,  who 
had  long  since  abandoned  all  hope  of  being 
able  to  see  again.  He  was  only  a  little  over 
forty  years  old  and  the  prospect  on  a  coast 
like  this  was  dreary  indeed.  The  operation 
for  double  cataract  was  completely  successful 
and  was  quite  as  miraculous  to  the  neighbors 
as  the  restoring  of  sight  to  the  blind  in  Our 
Saviour's  time. 

One  of  the  main  difficulties  in  operative 
work  is  often  the  soft-heartedness  of  my  as- 
sistants, who  are  necessarily  pressed  in  from 
anywhere,  and  the  anxiety  of  watching  both 
the  anaesthetic  and  the  operation.  This  does 
not  matter  so  much  when  dealing  with  Eskimo 
patients,  for  they  are  sometimes  so  indifferent 
to  pain  one  can  dispense  with  the  anaesthetics, 
and  now  excellent  local  anaesthetics  often  act- 
ually permit  the  patients  themselves  to  help 
one  in  the  operation.  On  one  occasion,  when 


A  PHYSICIAN  in  The  ARCTIC  191 

I  was  visiting  an  Eskimo  fishing  station,  the 
Head  man  announced  that  I  would  see  the 
patients-  in  his  hut.  I  seated  myself  in  the 
middle  of  the  tiny  hut  with  a  butter  tub  for 
a  throne,  while  every  inch  of  spare  room 
around  the  tiny  space  reserved  for  the  patient 
of  the  moment  was  crowded  with  all  the  adult 
Eskimos  that  could  get  in.  Curiosity  is  as 
marked  in  these  little  people  as  it  is  in  mon- 
keys. It  came  at  last  to  the  turn  of  a  girl 
with  an  intractable  frost  bite  of  the  toe,  for 
which  the  only  cure  was  amputation.  Appar- 
ently it  was  a  proud  moment  in  her  life.  Hav- 
ing explained  as  best  I  could  the  treatment 
her  case  involved,  I  was  not  a  little  surprised 
when  she  sat  right  down  and  held  up  the  toe 
which  gave  her  a  claim  to  so  much  attention, 
indicating  that  she  wished  me  to  proceed  at 
once.  She  showed  the  greatest  interest  from 
start  to  finish  and  I  left  her  a  marked  person 
in  that  settlement.  Eskimos  almost  always 
heal  well.  No  one  wishes  to  earn  the  title  of 
romancer,  yet  I  have  been  so  surprised  myself 
at  the  way  people  can  get  well  on  this  coast 
that  I  am  inclined  to  advise  my  readers  to 
come  down  here  and  try  its  tonic  qualities. 

Ritual  of  all  kind  is  at  a  discount  among 
those  who  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,  and 


i92  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

I  am  afraid  that  in  surgery  as  well  as  in  re- 
ligion we  are  apt  to  be  iconoclasts.  Late  one 
fall  when  I  was  hastening  south  in  a  small 
launch — the  hospital  sailing  vessel  in  which 
we  came  from  England  had  already  gone, — I 
anchored  at  dark  one  day  under  the  shelter  of 
a  group  of  islands  in  a  roadstead  quaintly 
named  "Rogue's  Roost."  Just  as  I  was  turn- 
ing in,  for  being  my  own  skipper  with  only 
one  man  beside  the  engineer  I  had  a  watch 
to  stand  and  was  therefore  tired,  a  boat 
bumped  alongside  and  a  voice  sang  out  to 
know  if  there  was  a  doctor  on  board. 
"What  do  you  want  with  a  doctor?" 
"There's  a  woman  very  sick  ashore,  sir. 
Could  you  come  and  see  her?" 

How  could  I  say  that  I  wasn't  at  home,  see- 
ing he  had  guessed  my  identity  from  my  voice. 
I  went  ashore  and  found  the  mother  of  a 
small  family  actually  sick  unto  death.  She 
had  what  is  known  as  a  psoas  abscess.  In 
this  case  the  treatment  involved  an  opening 
through  the  muscles  in  the  back.  To  me  it 
seemed  an  issue  in  either  case  of  death,  the 
difference  being  the  lessening  of  her  sufferings. 
She  insisted  on  taking  the  chance  and  endur- 
ing the  pain.  My  only  assets  were  a  scalpel 
and  the  rubber  tube  of  my  stethescope.  The 


A  PHYSICIAN  in  The  ARCTIC  193 

operation  went  off  all  right.  The  tube  was 
strongly  sewn  in  and  the  bed  having  been  lit- 
erally cut  in  half,  drainage  was  established  and 
the  person  directed  to  lie  on  her  back  there 
until  I  came  back  in  the  spring.  I  was  a  little 
shy  when  next  July  we  approached  this  same 
group  of  islands.  But  among  those  who  came 
down  to  greet  me  was  an  unusually  healthy 
looking  woman  whom  I  entirely  failed  to  rec- 
ognize. At  last  I  ventured  to  approach  the 
painful  subject  of  the  operation.  The  person 
in  rude  health  explained  without  any  surprise, 
"that's  me." 

Being  unable  to  specialize  on  this  coast,  one 
has  perhaps  as  many  medical  troubles  as  one 
has  surgical.  On  one  occasion  I  brought  with 
me  from  the  north  a  jolly  little  fellow  who 
had  been  exhibited  at  the  World's  Fair  as 
Prince  Pomiuk.  I  had  picked  him  up  in  an 
advanced  state  of  hip-joint  disease,  lying 
naked  on  the  pebble  beach  in  a  skin  "tubik" 
or  tent  at  the  head  of  a  deep  fjord  near  Cape 
Chidley.  The  foster  parents,  for  his  father, 
the  chief,  had  been  murdered,  readily  gave 
me  what  remained  of  the  lad,  and  having 
twice  operated  on  him  under  chloroform,  I 
had  landed  him  at  our  most  northern  hos- 
pital at  the  mouth  of  Hamilton  inlet.  The 


i94  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

sister  in  charge  was  ordered  to  keep  him  for 
a  few  days  in  a  hot  bath.  We  had  no  hot 
water  supply,  however,  and  the  stove  was  only 
large  enough  to  keep  hot  the  food  and  water 
that  was  wanted  for  every  day's  work.  The 
question  was  solved  by  our  fishermen  friends 
around.  They  appeared  in  the  afternoon  with 
a  large  iron  pot  in  which  they  bark  their  nets. 
Under  the  shelter  of  a  virgin  rock  they  built  a 
stone  fire  place,  on  which  they  not  only  placed 
the  cauldron,  but  there  in  the  open  near  the 
hospital  kept  the  fire  going  the  requisite  time 
and  did  a  great  deal  towards  hastening  the 
little  fellow's  recovery.  The  bath,  holding  a 
large  quantity  of  water,  and  being  well 
wrapped  round  with  layers  of  blankets  was 
not  hard  to  maintain  at  an  even  temperature. 

A  flag  half-masted  or  almost  any  unusual 
evolution  answers  as  a  call  to  our  little  hospital 
ship  as  she  patrols  the  coast  in  summer.  One 
morning,  just  as  we  had  got  our  anchor  up 
and  were  ready  for  sea,  we  saw  signals  from 
an  approaching  boat  that  they  wanted  to  come 
aboard.  No  sooner  alongside  than  a  man  was 
lifted  over  the  rail  with  his  right  arm  under 
cover.  It  appeared  that  owing  to  an  accident 
it  had  been  dislocated  some  weeks  previously, 
and  was  not  only  the  cause  of  great  pain  but 


A  PHYSICIAN  in  The  ARCTIC  195 

threatened  to  permanently  cripple  him.  As 
we  were  then  almost  at  our  most  extreme 
northern  limit,  and  in  the  latitude  that  no 
medical  man  reaches,  it  was  doubly  pleasing 
to  stop  and  put  the  poor  fellow  right,  though 
we  were  blowing  off  steam  and  wasting  pre- 
cious fuel  all  the  time.  I  had  supposed  that 
the  incident  ended  there,  but  two  years  later, 
being  again  in  the  same  neighborhood,  my 
former  patient  came  aboard  tendering  me  a 
splendid  pair  of  skin  boots.  Having  forgotten 
the  man  I  asked  him  what  he  wanted  for  them. 
"For  you,"  he  replied,  and  promptly  retired. 
I  was  only  told  on  inquiry  that  he  had  been 
waiting  all  this  time  to  demonstrate  in  some 
way  that  he  was  not  without  gratitude.  Grati- 
tude, as  rare  still  in  the  world  as  in  Scrip- 
tural times,  goes  a  long  way  to  render  even 
arduous  services  a  pleasure,  and  fortunately 
this  is  a  characteristic  feature  also  in  men  of 
the  sea. 

A  letter  from  an  Eskimo  bears  the  same 
note.  "My  dear  friend.  You  are  our  friend, 
although  you  do  not  know  us.  We  show  you 
our  thanks,  both  my  wife  and  I,  because  you 
have  so  kindly  attended  our  children  this  sum- 
mer. First  you  cared  for  Jeremias,  while  he 
was  suffering.  He  is  his  mother's  only  son. 


196  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

Afterwards  my  only  son  Nathaniel,  the  one 
that  was  shot,  you  are  attending  to,  and  we 
wish  to  show  you  our  thanks.  Although  we 
are  unable  to  pay  with  things  that  are  seen, 
may  He  on  whom  you  believe  help  you  in 
your  work,  and  may  you  afterwards  receive 
that  for  which  you  wish,  that  which  is  precious 
and  desirable,  that  which  is  above.  Jeremias 
told  us  of  your  kindness  which  you  show  to 
all.  Please  accept  this  little  present,  which  is 
to  show  you  our  thanks.  We  are  unable  to 
do  more.  Good-bye."  How  could  it  have  been 
better  worded? 

The  pitiable  straits  to  which  one  or  two  bad 
seasons  sometimes  reduces  these  families,  es- 
pecially the  more  isolated  ones,  is  the  side  of  the 
picture  that  is  perhaps  most  pathetic.  I  went 
one  day  up  a  bay,  to  visit  a  settler's  family. 
It  was  dark  when  we  arrived  and  hauled  our 
boat  up  near  the  house.  The  father  and  one 
boy  were  away.  The  mother  and  seven  others 
were  home.  The  youngest  was  four  months 
old.  The  house  consisted  of  one  large  room,  a 
central  cracked  stove,  and  a  porch  in  which 
the  inevitable  dogs  slept. 

Our  hostess  remarked  at  once :  "I  am  very 
sorry,  sir,  I  cannot  offer  you  any  tea.  We 
have  had  none  in  the  house  for  over  a  month. 


A  PHYSICIAN  in  The  ARCTIC  197 

Richard  is  away  selling  some  seals."  They 
had  for  their  summer  twelve  quintals  of  fish 
at  two  dollars  thirty  a  quintal,  two  bear  skins, 
and  six  seals.  The  "seven"  were  to  all  in- 
tents and  purposes  naked.  Two  threadbare 
cotton  coverlets  were  the  sole  furnishings  of 
the  two  beds.  The  semi-religious  light  of  an 
exceedingly  small  lamp  in  some  measure  ob- 
scured the  rest  of  the  meager  surroundings. 
"Soft  loaf  and  water"  had  been  their  supper 
for  many  a  day.  Not  even  a  drop  of  molasses 
was  in  the  house.  Two  children  slept  with 
the  mother,  four  on  the  other  bed,  two  on  the 
floor.  Where  the  other  two  stowed  away  was 
a  mystery.  All  turned  in  with  even  their  rem- 
nants of  boots  on.  We  wrapped  up  in  our 
blankets  and  slept  on  the  floor. 

"I  don't  see  the  blanket  I  sent  you  last 
fall,"  I  ventured  on  as  we  were  stowing  away. 
"Did  you  receive  it?" 

"Yes,  sir.  But  five  children  sleeping  under 
it  soon  wore  it  out." 

The  enforced  idleness  of  winter  is  one  of 
the  greatest  causes  of  this  extreme  poverty. 
To  counteract  this  we  have  several  efforts 
under  way.  To  help  them  to  get  cash  for  their 
produce  we  started  a  series  of  small  co-opera- 
tive stores,  where  the  fish  is  sold  to  the  people 


i98  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

for  cash,  and  where  they  can  get  goods  at 
cash  prices.  These  stores  have  now  a  large 
schooner  for  freighting  called  the  Co-operator. 
They  have  had  quite  a  measure  of  success. 
To  increase  as  far  as  we  can  the  wage-earn- 
ing capacity  we  have  several  small  schemes, 
the  best  being  a  lumber  mill,  on  which  sixty- 
five  families  were  supported  last  winter  quite 
independently.  Those  who  are  good  trappers 
can  make  plenty  by  catching  foxes,  otters, 
beaver,  marten,  minks,  lynx,  ermine  and  mus- 
quash. Deer  also  are  still  plentiful  in  most 
parts  of  the  country,  and  of  late  years  rabbits. 
Ducks  also  are  common  all  along  the  coast, 
and  there  are  some  geese  and  other  wild  fowl. 
We  also  get  bears,  both  black  and  white,  and 
some  years  great  quantities  of  willow  grouse 
and  some  ptarmigan,  spruce  partridge  and 
Arctic  hares.  The  dog  driving,  ski  traveling, 
skating  and  winter  pleasures  are  unrivaled. 
There  is  plenty  of  free  salmon  fishing,  and 
unlimited  trout  fishing.  Cruising  can  be  car- 
ried on  in  perfect  safety,  and  one  can  cover 
hundreds  of  miles  without  ever  seeing  the  open 
water  at  all,  as  the  outlying  islands  are  so 
numerous.  There  is  much  exploration  to  be 
done,  much  ethnological  work,  to  say  nothing 
of  prospecting.  The  fog  is  not  at  all  trouble- 


A  PHYSICIAN  in  The  ARCTIC  199 

some,  the  air  is  clear  and  bracing.  Practically 
the  only  trouble  is  the  mosquito,  and  he  never 
confers  ague  on  his  victims. 

The  absence  of  all  conventionalities  and  re- 
strictions is  also  very  refreshing.  A  peri- 
patetic minister  was  called  on  at  a  place  known 
as  Spotted  Islands  to  marry  a  couple.  The 
bridegroom  was  an  elderly  man  who  was  a 
kind  of  king  in  the  place.  When  the  minister 
arrived  at  the  island  he  found  all  the  islanders 
assembled  in  the  little  school-room  awaiting 
him.  It  was  not  till  he  actually  entered  the 
building  that  he  discovered  the  bride  was  the 
deceased  wife's  sister.  This  being  a  forbidden 
relationship,  he  refused  to  proceed,  whereupon 
the  intending  bridegroom  quietly  remarked, 
"Never  mind,  Mister.  One  of  these  others 
will  do."  So,  turning  to  the  expectant  crowd, 
he  selected  a  suitable  partner,  and  she  being 
willing,  "all  went  as  gaily  as  a  marriage  bell." 

All  our  winter  work  is  done  over  the  snow 
with  large  dog  teams  and  komatiks  or  sledges. 
One  old  lady  of  sixty  has  just  arrived  at  one 
of  the  hospitals,  after  being  hauled  nearly 
seventy  miles  by  her  two  lads  and  their  dog 
team.  She  came  to  have  her  leg  amputated, 
and  already  we  are  trying  to  solve  the  prob- 
lem— where  is  the  artificial  leg  to  come  from? 


200  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

Here,  then,  is  a  life  which  offers  facilities 
for  the  employment  and  development  of  every 
faculty  a  man  possesses. 

Nothing  need  be  wasted  in  Labrador. 


XIII. 

Friends  and  Foes  of  the  Labrador. 

1WAS  lying  at  anchor  under  the  shelter  of 
a  group  of  rocky  islands  well  down  the 
East  Labrador  coast.  We  had  just  been 
doctoring  among  the  numbers  of  fishermen 
that  make  this  their  headquarters  for  the  sum- 
mer fishery.  As  we  landed,  a  thin  column  of 
smoke  over  the  southern  horizon  heralded  the 
approach  of  the  fortnightly  mail,  which  was 
overdue.  I  was  away  visiting  a  sick  woman, 
whom  we  had  to  send  to  the  hospital,  when 
the  mail  steamer  sounded  her  syren  off  the 
harbour.  Before  I  got  aboard  the  Hospital 
steamer,  the  mail-boat  had  again  departed. 
My  arrival  over  the  rail  was  greeted  by  a 
square-shouldered,  keen- faced  young  fellow  of 
twenty-five. 

Clothing  of  civilization!  Who  can  this  be? 
I  suppose  I  looked  it.  For  he  volunteered  the 
information : 

201 


202  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

"I'm  the  man  you  wired  for." 

"Wired!" 

"Yes.  Don't  you  remember?  To  Mont- 
real." 

"What's  your  line?" 

"I'm  an  electrical  engineer." 

"And  your  name?" 

"X ." 

"Right.  Excuse  me  half  a  minute."  Div- 
ing into  the  chart-room,  I  seized  the  letter  file, 
and  soon  hunted  up  his  letter,  dated  January 
6th,  marked  "Received,  July  loth."  Present 
date  is  August  6th. 

Briefly,  what  he  had  to  say  was,  what  I 
would  every  man  could  say:  "My  object  in 
life  is  to  make  it  tell  as  much  as  I  can." 

Apparently  he  was  just  free  of  any  personal 
ties,  and  so  able  to  stand  his  own  expense.  So 
he  thought  an  engineer  would  find  a  place 
down  here  where  there  would  not  be  a  man 
in  the  next  street  able  to  do  things  better  than 
himself.  Preferring  another  guerdon  to  dol- 
lars, he  had  written  his  letter,  and  my  wire 
had  filtered  back  in  the  course  of  time,  saying, 
"Come  right  along." 

Now  it  is  often  charged  to  Christian  mis- 
sions that  men  go  into  them  because  they  can- 
not get  anywhere  else,  or  for  what  they  can 


FRIENDS  and  FOES  203 

get  out  of  it.  I  think  the  latter  is  the  com- 
monest accusation,  because  the  weakness  of 
intellect  idea  has  been  abandoned  more  or  less 
of  late,  as  the  truth  gets  known  about  the  type 
of  men  who  are  out  in  the  foreign  fields. 

On  the  Strathcona  we  have  an  electrical 
apparatus  and  X-ray  installation  for  our  medi- 
cal work,  and  the  other  electrical  fittings  help- 
ing us  to  make  our  work  more  effective  and 
up-to-date.  It  was  out  of  order,  and  none  of 
us  knew  how  to  put  it  right. 

Friend  X has  just  emerged  from  the 

engine-room  rather  hot  and  dirty,  because  the 
dynamo  has  been  stuffed  up  in  a  corner  above 
the  condenser.  But  he  has  put  that  electrical 
apparatus  right,  and  I  think  he  is  just  as  sat- 
isfied as  if  he  had  an  extra  dollar  or  two,  and, 
perhaps,  he  has  just  as  much  right  to  be 
thought  sane,  in  spite  of  it.  We  have  laid 
before  him  the  work  we  can  give  him  to  do, 
and  which  we  cannot  get  done,  if  he  doesn't 
do  it,  because  we  cannot  afford  it.  He  has 
decided  as  soon  as  our  sea  freezes  us  out 
,(  which  it  does  not  do  before  December)  to 
run  up  to  Montreal  and  get  some  more  tools. 
It  appears  to  us  all  that  he  is  going  to  make 
himself  tell  somewhat  in  our  little  corner  of 
the  earth  during  the  next  twelve  months. 


204  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

What  enables  me  to  give  the  time  to  write 
this  letter  to  you  is,  that  there  is  a  Harvard 
medical  down  in  our  surgery,  interviewing  the 
fishermen,  who  have  been  coming  aboard  since 
morning  for  various  ailments.  He  is  a  vol- 
unteer for  exactly  the  same  reason. 

When  I  left  the  little  hospital  on  Caribou 
Island  there  were  two  young  fellows  from 
Bowdoin  University  staying  there,  recommend- 
ed to  us  by  President  Hyde  as  two  of  "the 
strongest  men  he  knows  in  the  University." 
They  are  not  engineers,  and  they  are  not  doc- 
tors. You  might  say  they  are  just  "digging," 
or  doing  anything  else  that  comes  along.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  the  day  I  left  they  were  act- 
ually digging  out  the  foundation  for  an  open- 
air  shelter,  which  has  since  been  completed. 
It  is  a  very  cute  arrangement,  and  serves  both 
for  our  convalescents  and  our  tubercular 
patients — beds  and  all.  It  is  going  to  be  an 
uncommonly  forceful  sermon  to  a  very  large 
number  of  people  on  the  benefit  of  the  fresh 
air,  sunshine,  and  the  simple  life.  I  ought 
to  have  said  that  these  men  seemed  to  me 
to  be  the  kind  of  men  the  world  wants  more 
of. 

They  are  not  making  any  dollars  either. 
Not  that  I  am  against  making  dollars.  They 


FRIENDS  and  FOES  205 

have  got  to  be  made,  and  God  bless  every  one 
who  makes  them. 

After  the  winter  on  the  north  Newfound- 
land shore,  when  this  hospital  boat  came  out 
of  winter  quarters,  I  would  have  had  to  close 
the  hospital  there,  as  we  did  last  summer,  for 
the  want  of  a  man  to  carry  on  the  work  while 
we  were  afloat.  But  we  were  able  to  hold  on 
till,  at  last  in  June,  another  medical  volunteer 
stepped  ashore  from  our  tardy  mail-boat. 

We  were  rather  hard  put  to  it  at  the  time 
for  a  nurse,  and  the  new  volunteer  began  by 
thirty-six  hours  without  sleep,  taking  a  night- 
watch  by  an  unconscious  fisherman  landed 
from  a  schooner  the  same  day. 

When  last  I  saw  him,  he  had  just  been  there 
six  weeks.  We  had  been  in  twice  to  empty 
the  hospital,  by  carrying  the  patients  to  the 
next  northern  hospital,  as  he  only  had  one 
nurse,  and  she  a  volunteer  from  England.  The 
daylight  was  already  coming  over  the  hills, 
and  the  doctor  was  standing  by  the  bed  of  a 
child  of  about  eight  years  with  acute  osteo- 
myelitis. He  had  opened  abscesses  in  eight 
places,  both  arms,  both  legs,  both  thighs,  his 
back  and  head.  The  child  was  too  ill  to  move, 
and  our  volunteer  was  bound  on  saving  him. 
Certainly  he  was  only  a  fisherman's  boy,  and 


206  VOWN  to  The  SEA 

the  doctor  won't  get  the  fee  that  Lorenz  re- 
ceived from  Armour;  but  he  will  get  a  fee 
that  will  satisfy  him  all  right  if  he  pulls  that 
child  through.  Because  that  child  should  have 
died  otherwise.  He  told  me  he  belonged  to 
a  Christian  Endeavor  band.  I  don't  know 
which  ecclesiastical  denomination.  But  it 
seems  to  us  down  here  to  breed  the  right  kind 
of  Christian. 

There  is  an  orphanage  on  the  hill  above  the 
hospital,  and  in  this  we  have  got  a  small  col- 
lection of  waifs  and  strays.  They  are  getting 
education,  and  they  are  getting  food  and  cloth- 
ing instead  of  semi-starvation  and  the  liability 
to  consequent  tubercular  trouble  so  common, 
alas!  among  our  poorer  brethren,  even  in  this 
wonderfully  healthy  climate.  These  are  in 
charge  of  a  lady  of  education  and  means  from 
England — a  lady  of  social  standing — who  has 
come  out  to  live  amongst  us  because  she  thinks 
she  can  make  her  life  tell  more  here  than 
where  she  was  at  home.  Those  orphans  seem 
mighty  fond  of  her,  too. 

I  am  not  going  to  multiply  instances.  My 
contention  is  that  the  missionary  life  is  a  sane 
life,  whichever  way  we  look  at  it.  It  does  not 
really  need  the  story  of  a  social  degenerate 
of  the  extreme  type  to  convince  reasonable 


FRIENDS  and  FOES  207 

minds  that  man  can  better  serve  the  purpose* 
he  was  made  for  by  living  for  other  ideals 
than  those,  alas!  which  are  "normally"  con- 
sidered sufficient. 

Of  course,  we  can  enjoy  the  spirit  of  games. 
Three  of  us  have  carried  our  university  colours 
for  athletics.  Any  of  us  can  do  our  share 
with  a  rifle  when  a  good  shot  means  venison 
for  dinner,  or  sealskin  for  a  new  pair  of  boots. 
We  landed  as  many  fine  salmon  the  other 
evening,  fishing  in  one  of  our  rivers,  while 
our  steamer  was  loading  wood  near  by,  as  did 
a  man  of  wealth  whom  we  found  from  Eng- 
land fishing  in  the  same  pool,  and  we  did  not 
require  any  stronger  tackle  than  he  did.  He 
is  fishing  there  yet,  and  heaven  only  knows 
what  he  is  going  to  do  with  his  salmon.  We 
had  good  use  for  ours.  He  was  out  fishing 
last  year,  and  the  year  before.  And  it  does 
not  seem,  as  one  gets  older  in  life,  that  any 
sport,  however  manly,  should  assume  the  na- 
ture of  a  recurring  decimal.  One  reason  why 
I  can  recommend  the  missionary  life  to  any 
man  is  because  in  most  of  the  fields  he  will 
find  an  ample  scope  for  any  and  every  talent 
he  possesses.  I  used  once  to  picture  to  myself 
that  it  would  have  been  great  to  have  been  the 
modern  Yankee  at  the  Court  of  King  Arthur. 


208  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

You  can  sample  that  pleasure  in  most  of  the 
mission  fields.  Indeed,  they  call  for  the  very 
best  that  the  very  best  men  can  give  them,  and 
in  return  they  give  men,  who  may  have  every- 
thing else  in  the  world,  things  better  than  they 
can  get  in  any  other  way,  and  make  them  into 
that,  perhaps,  nothing  else  can  make  them 
into.  We  have  now  on  this  coast  four  small 
hospitals,  one  hospital  steamer,  and  two  motor- 
boats,  besides  our  industrial  work. 

The  basis  of  altruistic  work,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  primal  reason  for  all  Christian  effort 
to  help  others,  is  the  fact  that  we  hold  that 
God  seeks,  nay  needs,  our  co-operation  and 
our  help  in  the  deadly  struggle  with  the  forces 
of  evil.  The  time,  the  energy,  the  unpaid- for 
devotion  shown  by  many  in  their  endeavour 
to  improve  our  laws,  our  public  health,  our 
national  safety,  and  to  further  our  advance 
in  civilization,  mean  that  men  recognize  that 
the  problem  of  human  life  involves  work  for 
the  general  welfare  and  not  merely  for  self- 
advancement.  Personally,  I  believe  that  our 
best  thinking  men  who  give  their  lives  to  these 
matters  are  not  actuated  merely  by  the  desire 
for  office,  for  remuneration,  or  for  praise,  but 
they  are  in  the  work  because  they  wish  to  con- 
fess thereby  that  every  man  is  bound,  so 


FRIENDS  and  FOES  209 


far  as  he  is  able,  to  co-operate  with  his  fellows 
and  with  his  Creator  in  abolishing  the  things 
that  directly  degrade  and  destroy  his  brethren. 

It  is  for  this  very  primal  reason  that  I  hate 
most  of  all  the  traffic  in  intoxicating  liquors, 
and  for  this  reason  that  we  have  no  use  for 
it  among  those  who  "go  down  to  the  sea  in 
ships,"  or  among  men  who  need,  for  the  physi- 
cal emergencies  of  their  lives,  every  ounce  of 
vitality  they  possess.  That  is  why  we  not  only 
decry  its  use,  but  we  dread  its  appearance 
among  our  trappers  as  well  as  our  fishermen. 
These  men,  often  alone,  face  in  the  bitter  cold 
of  our  winter  endless  miles  of  barren  wastes, 
and  live  for  weeks  tramping  the  woods  in  the 
ordinary  routine  of  their  calling.  They  leave 
wives  and  children  behind  them,  and  it  would 
be  nothing  short  of  disastrous  if  they  carried 
alcohol  with  them,  or  enfeebled  their  vital 
powers  by  its  use  in  any  way. 

I  remember  a  doctor  even  who  "took  a  glass 
occasionally."  I  know  it  hardly  does  to  sug- 
gest that  a  man  of  that  rank  of  life  is  in  dan- 
ger of  getting  drunk,  yet  he  is  by  no  means 
the  only  man  of  my  profession  whom  I  have 
known  living  in  a  hell  on  earth  through  al- 
cohol. This  man  was  found  drunk  on  the 
snow  one  night.  He  had  been  having  "a  good 


210  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

time"  with  some  "friends."  Both  his  feet  were 
so  badly  frozen  that  they  had  to  be  cut  off, 
and  he  had  to  make  the  rounds  of  his  patients 
in  a  country  practice  for  the  rest  of  his  life 
on  artificial  legs.  I  knew  this  poor  victim 
personally. 

The  worst  of  alcohol  as  a  poison  is  that  it 
does  not  kill  at  once,  and  death  when  it  comes 
is  a  mere  detail  compared  with  the  weary  years 
of  misery,  struggle,  failure,  and  remorse.  It 
leaves  all  the  while  the  consciousness  of  the 
awful  evil  it  is  making  the  man  to  his  little 
world;  it  makes  him  suffer  with  the  suffering 
he  himself  is  inflicting  on  his  loved  ones,  till 
often  enough  he  seeks  in  self-murder  an  escape 
from  his  hell  on  earth  into — what,  beyond  ? 

Yet  another  poor  victim  in  my  own  pro- 
fession— a  brilliant  student  and  accomplished 
gentleman.  Surely  he  ran  no  risk.  Yet  after 
years  of  disgrace  and  shame — a  ruined  family 
and  a  blasted  life — I  saw  him  lying  with  a 
fractured  skull,  dying.  He  had  fallen  drunk 
down  the  steps  of  the  government  mail  vessel 
on  which  he  was  then  credited  Medical  Officer 
of  the  crown. 

Labrador  is,  from  a  health  standpoint,  an 
exceptionally  good  country.  We  have  no  en- 
demic diseases;  our  dogs  do  not  suffer  from 


211 

rabies;  our  mosquitoes  carry  no  malaria;  the 
leprous  bacillus  has  never  reached  our  shores. 
The  specific  fevers  that  visit  us  come  with 
the  arrival  of  our  summer  visitors.  When  we 
are  isolated  in  winter  we  are  safe  from  the 
assaults  of  cholera,  smallpox,  and  scarlet  fever. 
Our  very  isolation  is  our  salvation. 

A  short  while  ago,  a  schooner  flying  in  hot 
haste  before  the  breeze  brought  up  close  to 
one  of  our  little  hospitals.  ,No  sooner  was 
she  anchored  than  the  skipper  came  hurrying 
up  to  the  doctor  in  charge. 

"What  is  the  matter,  skipper,  that  you  are 
in  such  a  hurry?" 

"Well,  Doctor,  there  is  smallpox  in  our  har- 
bour, and  you  are  wanted  at  once." 

"Smallpox !    How  did  that  get  there  ?" 

"Oh,  it  corned  in  a  schooner  from  Quebec, 
and  now  my  Johnny  is  down  with  it,  and  they 
says  as  two  men  on  schooners  has  got  it  from 
her  also." 

Any  sane  person  would  admit  it  was  worth 
while  going  down  to  that  harbour,  seizing  that 
schooner,  towing  her  away  into  a  deserted 
bay,  where  she  could  do  no  harm,  and  throw- 
ing the  infection,  as  far  as  possible,  into  the 
sea,  because  we  were  dealing  with  an  organic 
poison.  No  one  would  suggest  leaving  such 


212  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

a  vessel  to  scatter  her  deadly  influence  and 
then  content  oneself  with  trying  to  convert 
"back  to  health"  the  victims.  The  damage 
and  loss  was  so  obvious  and  the  cause  of  the 
damage  was  so  traceable  that  when  we  had 
finally  burned  everything  that  we  suspected 
as  dangerous,  we  considered  that  our  treat- 
ment was  strictly  scientific,  and  it  received 
universal  commendation.  And  had  we  been 
able  to  prove  that  the  owner  of  that  vessel 
knew  of  the  poison  he  was  sending  down  to 
us  on  board  it  we  would  have  gone  for  him 
for  murder,  for  seventy-one  fishermen  died 
of  it. 

A  few  weeks  later,  a  quiet,  elderly,  white- 
haired  fisherman,  who  had  an  invalid  wife  de- 
pendent on  him,  was  suddenly  landed  at  the 
same  hospital  from  a  vessel. 

"What's  the  matter  with  John?  It  must 
be  something  very  bad  that  has  brought  him 
here  on  a  stretcher  in  the  middle  of  the  fish- 
ing season." 

"Well,  Doctor,  he  has  broken  his  leg." 

"Broke  his  leg !  How  on  earth  did  he  come 
to  do  that?" 

"Well,  you  see,  a  schooner  corned  in,  Doc- 
tor, with  a  drop  of  the  drink  aboard,  and  Pat 
Grady  got  taking  some,  and  he  knocked  the 


FRIENDS  and  FOES  213 

old  man  over  the  stage-head.  No,  he  ain't  a 
fighting  man,  but  the  liquor  made  a  very  devil 
of  him." 

This  meant,  in  a  man  of  over  seventy  years, 
nearly  twelve  months  before  he  would  walk 
again,  and  cost  him  the  loss  of  at  least  one 
fishing  season.  I  knew  what  it  meant  to  his 
wife. 

Was  it  fanatical  and  unscientific  to  hasten, 
as  we  did,  to  the  harbour,  to  seize  on  the  sup- 
ply of  alcohol  in  the  schooner,  to  carry  it  to  a 
place  where  no  man  dwelt,  and  tip  the  infec- 
tion into  the  ocean?  In  this  case,  the  poison 
was  a  chemical  one. 

In  the  first  case,  we  had  no  wish  to  punish 
the  dangerous  vessel,  for  the  harm  was  done 
in  ignorance ;  in  the  second  case,  our  blood  was 
boiling,  for  the  beast  that  was  doing  it  was 
doing  it  for  dollars  only,  blood-stained  dol- 
lars, and,  moreover,  he  had  not  the  humanity 
to  say  he  was  sorry. 

The  dangerous  subtlety  of  the  thing  makes 
one  hate  it  the  more,  for  it  comes  ever  in  the 
guise  of  a  good  friend.  The  tempter,  with 
the  idiotic  laugh  of  the  stale  joker,  calls  it  "a 
drop  of  the  good  craythur,"  glibly  plagiarising 
the  old  lie,  "It  does  no  one  any  harm."  And 
so  it  makes  it  hard  for  the  modest,  retiring 


214  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

nature  of  a  simple  young  fisherman  to  appear 
ostentatious  and  unfriendly  by  refusing  "just 
a  little  drop."  Thus  I  have  seen  them  buy  it, 
and,  alas,  also  learn  to  want  it — at  any  price. 

Night  was  closing  in  as  I  lay  at  anchor  one 
November  evening  in  the  harbour  of  one  of 
these  charming  little  fishing  villages.  I  was 
just  going  below  to  turn  in  when  I  heard  the 
bump  of  a  boat  alongside,  and  I  saw  a  woman 
alone  climbing  up  the  companion  ladder. 

"Can  I  go  below,  Doctor?  I  want  to  speak 
to  you  alone." 

"Why,  certainly  come  along  down.  What 
is  the  trouble?" 

"It's  my  Willie  what's  brought  me  here  to 
see  you.  You  knows  him.  The  men  says  as 
some  one  is  stealing  their  fish  what  is  drying 
on  their  'flakes,'  and  they  be  threatening  to  do 
dreadful  things  if  they  catches  un." 

"What  has  that  got  to  do  with  your  Willie  ? 
I  am  sure  he  would  never  steal  a  pin's  head." 

"No,  no,  t'ank  God.  My  boy  never  give 
me  a  day's  trouble  in  his  life.  There  never 
was  no  tievin'  here.  But,  Doctor,"  and  she 
leaned  over  to  whisper  in  my  ear,  for  fear  the 
very  walls  should  hear,  "my  Willie  have  come 
home  with  liquor  on  him  on  times  of  late.  I 
knows  he  have  nothing  to  pay  for  it.  I  corned 


FRIENDS  and  FOES  215 

alone,  Doctor,  and  in  the  night,  for  fear  the 
men  should  suspicion  me.  You  will  help  me, 
won't  you,  Doctor?"  and  she  broke  down  and 
cried  bitterly. 

I  comforted  her  as  well  as  I  could  and  then 
sent  her  ashore. 

While  I  listened  to  the  plash  of  her  oars,  as 
that  gentle  mother  rowed  ashore  alone  in  the 
darkness,  I  felt  as  I  felt  before,  that  this  liquor 
is  ten  times  more  dangerous  even  than  small- 
pox, for  it  damns  the  body  and  the  soul  as 
well. 

Last  year  I  seized  from  an  illicit  saloon 
quite  a  large  consignment.  In  it  was  a  large 
barrel  of  rum  which  I  had  rolled  out  on  the 
end  of  our  wharf.  There  was  a  group  of 
fishermen  standing  there,  and  all  were  wonder- 
ing what  I  was  going  to  do.  I  wished  to 
preach  a  sermon  to  them  on  what  I  considered 
the  fitting  and  most  sensible  disposal  of  this 
chemical  poison.  It  was  impossible  for  me  to 
suggest  as  a  scientist,  or,  let  me  say,  as  a 
physiologist,  or  as  a  rational  human  being, 
much  less  as  a  follower  of  Christ,  that  this 
stuff  should  be  poured  down  the  throats  of 
men.  No,  no,  we  knew  better  than  that.  We 
borrowed  an  axe  from  one  of  the  group,  and 
smashing  in  the  head  of  the  barrel,  let  it  run 


2i6  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

out  into  the  ocean.  Was  that  unscientific  or 
fanatical,  in  view  of  what  we  knew  about  it? 
Wasn't  that  the  best  way  of  regulating  the 
liquor  traffic  among  us  where  all  knew  it  was 
a  matter  of  life  and  death  to  many  of  us? 


XIV. 

The  Close  of  Open  Water. 

ONCE   more   we   are    landsmen.     Once 
more  our  six  short  months  afloat  is 
over  and  the  little  Strathcona  is  once 
again   safely   tied   alongside   the   wharf,    the 
planking  of  which  is  already  covered  with  the 
snow  of  approaching  winter. 

As  we  passed  into  this,  our  last  harbor  be- 
tween the  two  great  towering  cliffs  overhang- 
ing the  narrow  entrance,  and  as  the  Capital 
City  opened  out  all  round  us,  leaving  us  right 
in  its  busy  midst,  we  seemed  suddenly  shut  off 
as  it  were  by  closed  gates  from  the  restless 
life  beyond,  from  the  field  of  activities  which 
till  a  moment  ago  had  been  absorbing  all  our 
interests.  We  seemed  to  have  suddenly 
reached  the  horizon,  and  passed  directly  into 
a  new  life,  for  into  this  fair  harbor  no  rough 
seas  can  reach.  There  are  no  rocks  to  fear — 
no  shoals  to  shun — the  anchor  once  down  in 
217 


218  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

this  harbor  we  no  longer  fear  that  our  little 
vessel  will  drift  from  her  moorings  in  the 
hours  of  darkness  and  sleep.  Once  lowered 
it  will  hold  where  you  left  it,  till  you  weigh  it 
again  yourself  on  the  way  to  some  new  field  of 
labor. 

A  sense  of  tension  relieved  comes  over  one, 
and  for  a  brief  while  thankfulness  for  rest. 
But  almost  at  once  a  new  feeling  chases  this 
away  and  one's  mind  flies  back  in  review  over 
the  experiences  of  the  past.  What  a  new  light 
seems  to  be  thrown  on  the  relative  importance 
of  things  outside  "the  narrows."  There  grad- 
ually creeps  into  one's  reverie  the  shadow  of 
a  desire,  in  spite  of  the  rest  and  peace,  that 
some  of  the  opportunities  might  come  back 
just  once  more. 

But  the  iron  mooring  chains  are  fast  to  the 
great  gump  heads  of  the  wharf — the  sails  are 
already  unreeved — the  ship  dismantled — the 
very  funnel  covered  in.  The  last  mile  stone 
is  passed — the  last  chapter  closed.  What  now 
is  the  live  issue? 

It  has  been  suggested  that  we  should  ask 
His  Excellency  the  Governor,  viceroy  of  the 
King,  to  inspect  the  little  ship.  But  when  at 
length  I  put  it  to  our  good  skipper,  he  pro- 
tested, as  I  had  half  expected.  "She  looks  too 


The  CLOSE  of  OPEN  WATER  219 

much  as  if  she  had  been  through  a  mill,  Doc- 
tor. She  will  look  better  after  we  have  painted 
her  in  the  spring." 

In  truth  there  was  no  denying  it,  for  she 
looked  as  if  she  had  just  come  out  of  battle. 
The  topmasts  had  been  struck  for  the  late  gale, 
and  the  dainty  rigging  we  sailed  out  with  had 
been  stripped  off  and  stowed.  Our  ragged 
remnant  of  a  flag  fluttered  now  from  an  im- 
promptu staff,  which,  lashed  into  the  large  top- 
gallant iron,  looked  lost  and  forlorn.  The 
masts  were  grimy  with  smoke,  and  weathered 
and  salted  with  the  sea  spray.  For  the  con- 
tinuance of  heavy  easterly  weather  had  given 
the  men  no  chance  to  scrape  down  during  the 
voyage  home.  As  for  her  deck  houses,  the 
varnish,  where  any  was  left,  had  assumed  the 
color  of  skimmed  milk  from  the  continued 
driving  sleet  and  spume.  Up  to  two  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  rails  most  of  it  had  been 
scraped  off  bodily  by  the  heavy  deck  loads  of 
pine  wood  which  we  had  been  carrying  out  of 
the  bays  to  the  hospitals,  as  our  last  contribu- 
tion toward  their  winter  comfort.  The  paint 
on  her  sides  and  bulwarks  had  paid  such  trib- 
ute to  the  sterns  of  countless  fishing  boats 
alongside  that  the  once  shiny  black  surface 
was  mottled  like  a  pane  of  frosted  glass — 


220  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

while  below  the  water  line — well,  even  there 
we  would  like  to  go  over  her  on  dock  our- 
selves before  others  saw  her.  For  we  had 
struck  twice  on  a  nasty  day  in  the  late  fall 
when  we  tried  to  navigate  a  part  of  the  Gulf 
of  St.  Lawrence  on  the  way  to  the  new  Ca- 
nadian hospital,  a  piece  of  coast  that  was  new 
to  all  of  us.  She  had,  in  fact,  entered  her  last 
port  like  a  man  cut  off  without  a  moment's 
warning:  thus  she  certainly  was  not,  as  some 
would  say,  ready  for  inspection. 

But  as  I  stood  on  the  wharf,  running  my 
eye  over  her  familiar  lines,  to  me  endeared  by 
so  many  happy  days  together,  there  was  a  sort 
of  feeling  that  I  would  not  have  it  otherwise. 
For  she  looked  like  a  workman  right  from 
his  field  of  labor.  Her  very  toil-worn  features 
spoke  of  things  accomplished,  and  afforded 
some  scant  solace  for  the  regrets  that  oppor- 
tunities had  gone  by. 

I  could  see  again  as  I  looked  at  her  the  thou- 
sands of  miles  of  coast  she  had  carried  us 
along — the  record  of  over  a  thousand  folk 
that  had  sought  and  found  help  aboard  her 
this  summer — the  score  of  poor  souls  for 
whom  we  could  do  nothing  but  carry  them, 
sheltered  in  her  snug  cabin,  to  the  larger  hos- 
pitals where  they  could  be  better  attended 


The  CLOSE  of  OPEN  WATER  221 

than  by  us  at  sea.  I  remembered  visitors  and 
helpers  whom  she  had  faithfully  carried,  and 
who  were  now  scattered  where  they  could  tell 
of  the  needs  of  our  folks,  and  bring  them 
better  help  in  years  to  come.  I  remembered 
the  ministers  and  travelers  that  had  been  lent 
a  hand  as  they  pushed  their  way  up  and  down 
our  coast — the  women  and  children  and  aged 
persons  that  she  had  carried  up  the  long  bays 
to  their  winter  home,  and  to  whom  she  had 
saved  the  suffering  of  the  long  exposure  in 
small  and  open  boats.  One  remembered  the 
libraries  she  had  distributed  all  along  this 
bookless  coast  line,  the  children  picked  up  and 
carried  to  the  shelter  of  the  Orphanage,  the 
casks  of  food  and  drugs  for  men  and  dogs, 
placed  at  known  rendezvous  along  the  line  of 
water  travel,  making  the  long  dog  journeys 
possible.  How  often  had  her  now  boarded-up 
windows  lighted  up  her  cabin  for  a  floating 
Court  of  Justice  in  lonely  places  where,  even 
if  the  judgments  arrived  at  had  been  rather 
equitable  than  legal,  yet  disputes  had  been 
ended,  wrong-doing  punished,  and  the  weak 
had  been  time  and  again  helped  to  get  right 
done  them. 

One  remembered  how  she  had  been  a  terror 
to  certain  evil-doers  and  more  especially  to 


222  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

those  wretches  whose  greed  for  sordid  gain 
leads  them  to  defy  the  laws  of  God  and  man, 
as  they  sell  illicitly  the  poisonous  drinks  with 
which  they  lure  brave  men  and  true  to  their 
ruin.  On  a  truck  on  the  wharf  beside  me, 
even  now,  on  its  way  to  the  police  station,  lay 
a  consignment  that  our  little  ship  on  one  of 
her  raiding  expeditions  had  saved  from  doing 
the  damage  it  was  capable  of.  How  like  a 
confiscated  bomb-shell  it  looked.  And  one  re- 
membered pleasantly  the  comment  of  a  fisher- 
man friend  on  this,  one  of  the  most  vital  of 
her  missionary  efforts,  at  one  specially  trouble- 
some settlement:  "Bedad,  if  the  mission  ship 
goes  on  like  this  long  we  won't  be  able  to  kape 
an  ould  bottle  in  the  house  to  put  a  drop  of 
ile  in." 

Again  I  could  see  her  saving  from  destruc- 
tion a  helpless  schooner  abandoned  by  her  crew 
and  fast  beating  to  pieces  on  a  lee  shore.  I 
could  see  her  cabin  loaded  with  sacks  of  warm 
clothing  for  use  in  districts  where  dire  pov- 
erty from  failure  in  the  fishing,  or  possible 
accident  in  their  perilous  work  had  left  de- 
fenseless women  and  children  to  face  the  com- 
ing cold  of  winter  unprotected,  and  among 
those  who  had  benefited  in  this  way  were  the 
crews  of  half  a  dozen  unfortunate  schooners, 


The  CLOSE  of  OPEN  WATER  223 

wrecked  in  the  heavy  equinoctial  gale  of  last 
September. 

And  beyond  all  the  physical  aid  that  had 
been  rendered,  one  remembered  the  many  sor- 
rowful hearts  to  which  she  had  carried  mes- 
sages of  comfort  and  cheer.  To  some  dying 
she  had  brought  the  joyful  view  of  the  realities 
of  life  beyond,  and  to  some  stricken  hearts 
bereft  of  the  hand  they  looked  to  for  protec- 
tion, she  had  brought  with  material  help  the 
ray  of  hope  which  God  permits  the  hand  of  a 
brother  to  carry  as  possibly  its  most  precious 
burden. 

The  skipper,  who  had  come  to  the  rail  to 
insert  a  fender  between  the  streak  of  the  wharf 
shores,  noticed  that  I  was  still  examining  the 
ship,  and  interrupted  my  reverie. 

"Doesn't  look  exactly  like  a  pleasure  yacht, 
Doctor,  does  she?" 

"Indeed  she  doesn't,  skipper,"  and  I  almost 
added,  "thank  God."  For  it  is  some  years 
since  I  have  had  time  to  seek  pleasure  in  that 
way.  Somehow  the  idea  of  the  mission 
steamer  being  a  "pleasure  yacht"  grated  on 
one's  nerves.  A  "mere  pleasure  yacht"  was 
in  my  mind,  and  rose  to  my  lips  too.  For 
though  some  might  not  think  of  it,  the  true 
following  of  the  Master  makes  men  utilitarian. 


224  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

His  servants  must  "hustle"  in  this  busy  world, 
as  do  the  servants  of  His  enemy,  a  truth  the 
middle  ages  did  not  appear  to  know.  The 
Master's  followers  must  have  strong  reasons 
to  give  themselves  when  they  can  afford  to 
seek  their  pleasure  as  others  do. 

Out  of  this  very  port  she  had  sailed  just  six 
months  ago,  not  knowing  what  she  might  be 
called  upon  to  do  or  to  face,  before  she  could 
hope  to  get  back  to  her  haven  of  rest  again. 
She  had  started  with  a  high  purpose,  anxious 
to  serve  God  by  serving  His  brethren,  seeking 
the  joy  which  can  only  be  won  in  one  way. 
The  same  joy  which  the  Lord  has  promised 
that  His  faithful  children  shall  share  with 
Him  hereafter.  The  joy  of  toil  here,  and  toil- 
worn  rest  hereafter.  "The  blessing  of  heaven 
is  perfect  rest,  but  the  blessing  of  earth  is  toil." 

Our  ship  had  stood  forth  a  tiny  speck  in 
the  great  ocean,  a  thing  that  man's  mind  might 
well  despise  as  ill  calculated  to  achieve  service 
of  any  value  to  the  King  of  Kings.  Pre- 
sumptuous it  had  often  seemed  even  to  us,  as 
we  thought  of  the  great  work  to  be  done — of 
the  uncharted  shore,  the  countless  delays,  the 
thousands  of  scattered  craft,  the  short  season, 
the  strong  passions  and  the  great  temptations 
of  the  men  that  we  purposed  to  try  and  win. 


The  CLOSE  of  OPEN  WATER  225 

Moreover  now,  as  the  incidents  of  the  sum- 
mer flitted  in  review  before  my  mind,  I  could 
not  but  remember  that  twice  we  had  struck 
rocks,  once  had  been  all  but  overwhelmed  in 
a  storm,  several  times  had  been  astray  in  fogs, 
twice  had  broken  down  and  for  want  of  power 
had  been  ourselves  forced  to  seek  help  and  to 
lose  time  undergoing  repairs.  It  seemed  a 
poor  record. 

Just  at  this  moment  the  wake  of  a  ferry 
tug  rocked  the  Strathcona,  and  the  bump  she 
gave  the  wharf  called  me  back  to  the  world  of 
realities  abruptly.  After  all  she  still  lay  there. 
A  stout  little  steamer  full  of  capabilities,  ready 
and  waiting  for  fresh  responsibilities.  The 
very  bump  called  to  remembrance  the  familiar 
saying  of  an  old  friend : 

"Look  up,  not  down, 
Look  forward,  not  back, 
Look  out,  not  in. 
Lend  a  hand." 

The  sluggish  schooner  in  which  we  first 
sailed  with  one  doctor,  only  enabling  us  to 
spend  three  months  out  of  the  twelve  on  the 
coast,  had  vanished,  till  now  even  in  winter, 
in  their  distant  stations  in  far  off  Labrador, 
at  the  time  when  all  possible  help  from  out- 
side is  cut  off,  are  three  doctors  and  three 


226  DOWN  to  The  SEA 

trained  nurses,  and  many  other  agencies,  all 
proclaiming-  with  splints  and  bandages,  with 
remunerative  work,  and  cheaper  flour,  with 
good  books  and  with  simple  toys,  and  in  other 
ways,  what  God  can  do  in  spite  of  the  blun- 
dering workmen. 

I  fancied  I  could  see  written  round  the  now 
silenced  funnel  the  words  of  a  familiar  hymn : 

"Only  an  armour  bearer,  yet  may  I  stand, 
Ready  to  follow  at  the  King's  command." 

God  grant  that  when  I  come  up  for  inspec- 
tion, when  my  voyage  is  over,  I  may  not 
fear  the  verdict.  May  the  log-book  record 
many  a  brother  helped,  and  saved.  For 
though  He  will  see — as  see  He  will — the  dints 
in  the  planking  and  the  scratches  on  the  paint 
and  spars — yes,  even  if  they  speak  to  Him 
while  they  remind  us  of  the  sorry  contact  with 
rock  and  shoal — still  we  have  confidence  to  be- 
lieve that  there  will  be  nothing  to  dread  from 
Him. 

"Yes,  Yes,  Skipper :  God  bless  the  old  ship. 
Let  her  be  inspected,  I  say,  just  as  she  is." 

THE    END. 


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